Not a Red Rose or a Satin Heart
by marialisa
Summary: A ghost from his past sends Flack on a hunt for the truth. With Danny, Mac and the team helping him old secrets are revealed, but the uncovering of past deceptions puts more than one life at risk. Final Chapter now posted.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note:** The inspiration for the story comes in part from a poem, **Valentine **by **Carol Ann Duffy**. The title comes from a line in the poem.

This is a late birthday present for **Sally Jetson**; a true friend who isn't afraid to be honest when she has to be.

The story is part written. I had planned to write it all before posting but I need a distraction from work and this is it! I apologise in advance if updates are occasionally a little slow.

**Disclaimer:** As always, I own nothing and I'm only borrowing the characters from the show.

**Rating:** T (I think!).

**Summary:** Is the past ever truly dead and buried?

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

He'd struggled with what to do for the best.

So far he'd managed to avoid being in any sort of 'relationship' that required him to send some overly sentimental card, or lay out a weeks wages on a bunch of fading red roses, just to comply with a date of commercially manufactured significance.

But this year things weren't as clear cut.

It might not have moved past the drinks after work and chats-at-each-others-desks-when-the-squad-room-was-clear stage, but it was moving; towards what he didn't know yet, but it meant a decision had to be made.

Did he send her a jokey card, one that hinted at 'I'm thinking about you', but that made it clear that he wasn't sure what this 'thing' between them was yet? Or did he ignore the day and hope she did too? He knew he wasn't ready to mark the day with anything more; knew that he wasn't ready to say this 'thing' was something 'serious'.

He wasn't ready for 'serious'.

Then he'd worried about what to do if she didn't ignore the day. What if she sent him something that said 'I really like you and I hope you feel the same'? He did like her, was even starting to think that maybe, just maybe, this 'thing' could become something more. But that was the problem. That word, 'maybe'.

He'd put himself down to work a double shift in the hopes that even if they were rostered on at the same time there would be enough going on that prevented them spending much, if any, time alone. He also made a mental note to avoid the squad room at all costs. But when he'd checked the roster he'd realised that he hadn't had to go to such lengths: 'Det J Angell' wasn't rostered on that day at all.

In saner moments he wondered if he was being unfair to her; acknowledged that maybe he was allowing his ghosts to create shadows where no shadows existed. But those moments were few and far between for him at this time of year and so he did what he always did; took as many double shifts as he could and worked until he nearly dropped from exhaustion in the vain hope that this year would be easier; that this year he'd get through these few weeks, and this day above all, without being plagued by the dreams that had him reliving it all again.

The day itself had so far passed without anything of note happening; no card, no email, not even a text message, and he allowed himself to breath more easily, reprieved for another year as, he assumed, she had decided to ignore the day as well.

And he was getting to be an expert in closing his eyes and not seeing the red roses and satin hearts that seemed to be everywhere. After all, this would the sixth year that he would try, and fail, to fool himself that it was just another day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: **Next chapter is likely to be posted in a weeks time (work, travel, boring stuff called real life getting in the way of writing!).

Huge thanks to **Sally Jetson** and **notesofwimsey** for their help with this.

* * *

**Chapter One**

* * *

The damp chill of the early morning crept under Flack's coat as he fumbled to open the door to his building. A couple, oblivious to anything but each other, appeared behind him wrapped in each others arms; a spray of six red roses, already starting to droop and fade, clutched like a trophy in her hand.

He opened the door and then stood back to let them go ahead of him, momentarily amused when he noticed their hands buried beneath each others clothing; amusement fading as it prompted unwanted memories of times when he'd arrived at this same door in the same manner.

Her face swam before him but a shake of his head had it fading away as tiredness provided the suppressant needed to block out painful memories.

He hesitated at his mailbox, unsure whether to leave looking through its contents until the morning in case...in case of what? In case Jess _had_ decided to send him a card? Would the morning light make it look any better?

Irritated with himself he pulled out mail and began flicking through it rapidly as he made his way up the stairs, his heart rate steadying with each bill or circular he found, until...

A thick white envelope that could only contain a card. His address printed carefully onto the envelope's front in dark blue ink and an anonymous hand.

The chill from outside seemed to seep into his bones. He forced his legs to keep moving up the final three flights of stairs. .

Maybe she hadn't ignored the day.

Once inside his apartment he dumped car keys, wallet, shield and gun on the table without conscious thought. The rest of the mail joined them as he kicked the door closed and then stood staring at the envelope. The temptation to pretend it had never arrived swept over him, chased away impatiently, only to return again.

He could. He could pretend it had never arrived, but…

Impatience returned. He tore open the envelope, ripping the thick paper in his haste to get to its contents.

It was a card but not from any shop. This one was home made with a hand-drawn picture on the front showing a young couple seated on a porch step, their arms around each other, their lips meeting in a kiss.

And he remembered.

_He remembered soft hesitant kisses that grew more intense as her mouth gradually yielded to his. _

_He remembered the effort it took not to push for more as unfamiliar feelings created a confusion of emotions. _

_He remembered the hurried breaking away as her parents arrived home_

The painful pleasure of the memories surged through his body with an intensity undulled by tiredness. With unsteady fingers he opened up the card.

Another pencil sketch, this time of a diamond ring lying on its side in front of half an onion, each of its rings perfectly delineated.

He stood for a heartbeat longer before carefully placing the card on the table and reaching for the whiskey. The first mouthful burned his throat, the raw ache momentarily distracting him from the ghost now drifting through the room. He drained the glass, filled it, and drained it again before he had the courage he needed.

In the bedroom he impatiently pushed aside the boxes that sat on the highest shelf of the cupboard in his haste to reach the large sports bag at the back. Inside were books, photo albums, cards, letters, a velvet covered box and an old, well loved, one eyed bear. He hunted through until he found what he was looking for: a piece of thick cream card covered on both sides in a beautiful script. He hadn't looked at it in over five years but he found that he remembered every word.

_**Valentine**_

_Not a red rose or a satin heart.  
_

_I give you an onion._

_It is a moon wrapped in brown paper._

_It promises light_

_like the careful undressing of love.  
_

_Here._

_It will blind you with tears_

_like a lover._

_It will make your reflection_

_a wobbling photo of grief.  
_

_I am trying to be truthful.  
_

_Not a cute card or a kissogram.  
_

_I give you an onion._

_Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,_

_possessive and faithful_

_as we are,_

_for as long as we are.  
_

_Take it._

_Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding ring,_

_if you like.  
_

_Lethal._

_Its scent will cling to your fingers,_

_cling to your knife.  
_

He didn't turn the card over and read the back. He didn't need to.

Placing the card down he picked up the black velvet covered box. He ran his thumb slowly around its edge, feeling the softness of the covering, before flicking it open and staring at the empty slash in the cream silk: a space where a ring had once sat. A diamond ring.

Suddenly choked, he forced himself to take a deep steadying breath, and then another and then another until his heartbeat steadied and the thoughts whirling through his head slowed.

The shock was lessening.

Now the questions were starting.

Outside, his shadow waited patiently as the rain began to fall.

* * *

**AN2:** The poem is '**Valentine**' by **Carol Ann Duffy**.


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors Note**: I know I said not before Friday but I managed to find some time and so I thought I'd post this now. The next chapter won't before the end of the week as I'm away for a couple of days with work.

Many thanks to **Sally Jetson** for her help.

* * *

**  
Chapter Two**.

* * *

Too much whiskey and too little sleep.

He'd drunk steadily through the remains of the bottle of Bushmills, each mouthful adding fuel to the fire of his anger against a faceless, nameless person who had seen fit to unlock so many painful memories.

At 4am, with the bottle empty, he'd taken to the streets; long strides devouring the sidewalk as he walked with no purpose in mind save the need to keep the anger burning inside. When he realised that anger was slowly being eclipsed by pain he stopped at an all night liquor store and laid out forty bucks for another bottle in the hopes that a few more glasses would send him into a temporary oblivion.

And the questions.

It seemed that all he'd done all night was come up with questions.

Answers however were harder to come by, and those he had come up with he refused to accept as being possible.

Work, as always, offered a refuge.

He arrived at the precinct two hours early for his shift; the first person he saw was Jess.

Tired he might be, but he didn't miss the flash of disappointment in her eyes; a flash that told him she had hoped there would be some acknowledgement from him of the previous day's significance; some acknowledgement of her significance.

She headed for his desk.

'Coffee?'

She held a cup out towards him, a careful smile on her face.

The whiskey lay uneasily in his stomach but the need for caffeine was sufficient to have him reaching gratefully for the proffered cup. He made sure not to let his fingers brush hers.

She perched awkwardly on the corner of his desk, something she'd been doing more of recently as they had started their slow inch towards something as yet undefined. Usually he enjoyed her company but today, his head still full of memories and questions, he wished she wouldn't sit there, hope lurking deep in her eyes.

'You look tired.'

He admired her restraint. He had a mirror; he knew he looked like hell.

'Long day yesterday.' An uncomfortable silence fell before the manners his mother had worked so hard to instill came to the fore. 'What about you? Good day?'

'I spent the day with an old friend from the Police Academy. She defected to the feds a few years ago but she's back in New York now and had tickets to this really great spa, so….' She shrugged. 'It was a good day.'

'Flack'

His reprieve came in the form of Danny and he grasped it with both hands. A quick smile thrown in her direction that, at a pinch, would pass for an apology, and he was out of his seat and heading for the door.

'Don'

She called him back and he turned reluctantly to face her. 'A call for you was put through to me by mistake earlier.' She glanced at the paper she had extracted from her pocket. 'Julia Howard, principle of Campus School in Memphis. Says it's very urgent she speak to you about a missing teacher, Christina Scannell.'

'Christina Scannell?' He glanced at Danny. 'That name ring any bells with you?'

'Nope and we've got a hit on the Stevenson case. Come on, Mac's meeting us there.'

He turned back to Jess. 'Drop it on my desk will you, I'll call her back later.'

He followed Danny from the precinct, Jess forgotten, the nights reawakened memories pushed to the back of his consciousness as the job once again provided a refuge from the past.

* * *

To his relief, when he arrived home his mailbox contained only bills and circulars. Letting himself into his apartment he stood for a moment, listening; remembering a time when it hadn't been so silent. He half fancied that the faint smell of her perfume hung in the air.

His body ached with tiredness and even the fear of dreaming couldn't keep him awake. Without bothering to undress he kicked his shoes off, lay down on the bed, and was instantly asleep.

Until the sound of his apartment door closing woke him.

Long years of having to wake suddenly made the transition from sleep to wakefulness a seamless one; the gun from his nightstand drawer appearing in his hand without thought.

Moving through the apartment he listened.

No sound, but a familiar scent wrapped itself around him, welding him to the spot as his sleep deprived senses stalled in his desperate attempt to comprehend what this meant.

Slamming the door shut on his thoughts; relying solely on instinct, his nerves jangling, he moved into the hallway.

The distant sound of running feet.

Tiredness gone, he hurled himself down the stairs; following an echo; chasing a shadow just out of his sight.

Reaching the bottom he saw the door to the building slowly closing. Bursting onto the street he looked wildly around.

And saw no-one; certainly no-one he recognized.

He slammed his hand against the door as frustration overwhelmed him and he realized that he had allowed him himself to believe, even for a moment, that it was her.

_Had he heard the door close? Had he heard footsteps on the stairs? Had he seen that shadow on the wall?_

Shaken and doubting himself he made his way back to the apartment, double locking the door and slotting home the safety chain. The bottle of whiskey was sitting where he'd left it, its amber liquid offering him a welcome oblivion. He was reaching for a glass when he saw it.

A book, long since buried at the back of the bookcase, lying open on the table.

Her book.

Heart racing, palms sweating, he approached the table. The book lay open, the pages covered in old pencil notes in her handwriting, the printed words acting as salt in his freshly opened wounds.

He reached for the phone and dialed a number. It rang twice. He spoke first.

'I need your help.'

The response was immediate.

_'I'm on my way.' _

Ribbons of fog drifted across the city, swirling around the shadow, camouflaging it from his sightless eyes as he stared out of the window and waited.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Thanks to **Sally Jetson** for her with this chapter, in particular for her help in translating English (UK) to English (US)!

* * *

**Chapter Three **

* * *

He hadn't changed anything.

The furniture was in the same position; the walls still painted the same colour.

He'd bought a new couch but only because the springs in the one they had inherited from her parents had finally given out.

He hadn't bought a new bed.

And in nearly six years no-one had shared it with him. When he 'dated' it was back to his date's place or they went nowhere. His fail safe test was to ask himself whether he could picture whoever he was dating in his apartment, making coffee in the kitchen or stretched out on the couch watching a Rangers game.

Or lying in the bed.

So far the answer had been a resounding no.

Now he waited, nursing his whiskey, aware of her ghost floating through the room, the sound of her laughter just out of earshot, as the hands of the clock moved in slow motion.

Finally he heard someone outside.

Fumbling with the locks and safety chain, whiskey glass in hand, he opened the door.

Danny stood there, his hair a mess, his shoulder hunched against the cold. He stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind him as he took in the glass clutched in Flack's hand.

'Can I have one?' He poured himself a glass without waiting for an answer and held the bottle out towards Flack. 'Top you off?'

Flack held his glass out, watching as the amber liquid swirled and caught the light. Glasses filled, Danny lent against the wall, arms crossed, waiting. The tension between them was tangible; their conflict over Rikki Sandoval still unresolved.

'Someone was in our apartment tonight.'

Danny's expression changed from one of studious neutrality to one of confusion. 'How do you mean?'

'I woke up and heard the door close. Someone was here.'

Danny's eyebrows shot into his hairline and he swung around to check the door. 'Someone broke in? Did they take anything?'

Flack shook his head as he indicated towards the table. 'No, all they did was take a book down from the bookcase and put it on the table.' He hesitated and then shrugged. 'I think they sent me a card too.'

'Someone broke in and took a book down from a bookcase?'

'Yes.'

Silence lay thickly between them as Danny took a long drink from his glass and Flack waited, knowing more questions would follow. There was a sudden sharpening of Danny's eyes.

'You said _our_ apartment.'

Emotion welled unexpectedly and he had to tighten his jaw against the sudden burning behind his eyes.

'What's going on Don?' Danny put down his glass, 'You ring me at 3am and ask for my help. I get here and you tell me someone broke in but I can't see any evidence of forced entry. Then you tell me that whoever was here didn't steal anything…that they took a book down from a bookshelf and you think they sent you a card.' He crossed his arms, a frown on his face. 'Why's this shaken you up so much?'

He still couldn't say the words, knowing that if they sounded crazy to him as they played in his head they would sound worse if they were spoken aloud. He forced aside the emotion and focused on the facts.

'This card arrived on Thursday.' He picked up the torn envelope containing the card and held it out towards Danny.

Danny hesitated, then shrugged, and reached into his pocket and pulled on a pair of gloves and took out some evidence bags. The incongruity of the situation suddenly struck Flack.

'You came over with gloves and bags?'

Danny shrugged sheepishly. 'They happened to be in my coat pocket.'

A half smile tugging at his face, Flack handed him the card before leading the way to where the book lay open on the table under the window.

Danny stared down at the poem 'Where did you say this book had been?'

'Top shelf, at the far end; where it's always been.'

Danny surveyed the bookcase for a moment. 'You know I've been in here any number of times and I wouldn't have known that book was there.' He stared at the titles along the top shelf. 'Were they all Ellie's?'

His glass was empty. He put it down on the table before sinking his hands deep into his pockets. 'Yeah, I couldn't bring myself to…I kept thinking that one day I might want to read them.' He stared at the books lining the shelf. 'Never have.'

Danny glanced at him quickly before turning his attention back to the book on the table, reading aloud

'_I remember when we used to kiss,_

_Your eyes closed for a moment then opened as if_

_in wonder at the world's sweet surprises of tongues, of lips.'_

He glanced up. 'Nice. Is it significant?'

'The drawing on the front of the card…my guess is the drawing is supposed to be Ellie and me the first time we kissed…she reckoned this poem reminded her of that night.'

Danny hesitated then opened the evidence bag and extracted the envelope before carefully sliding the card out and staring at the picture on it.

'Anything other than the poem that makes you think this drawing is supposed to be the first time you kissed?'

'The card arrived on Valentine's Day. The first time we kissed was on Valentine's Day.'

Danny nodded as he carefully opened up the card. He stared at the picture for a moment before looking up at Flack, confusion on his face.

'And the ring and the onion?'

'I proposed to Ellie on Valentine's Day morning.'

'You did? How did I not know this?' For a moment Danny was distracted; Flack shrugged.

'We didn't tell anyone that I proposed on Valentine's Day…it just seemed too…you know.' He shifted his weight, feeling uncomfortable. 'Ellie told me I was mad but it just seemed the right time, what with the trial being over and it being our anniversary.'

'OK, well I get the ring reference then, but the onion?'

'She wouldn't give me an answer; told me she'd tell me when I got home that night. When I got home there was a card waiting for me with a poem on one side and a note from Ellie on the other.' He picked up the card that he'd taken out of the sports bag earlier and handed it to Danny.

'Colour of the ink is the same as on the envelope from Thursday…handwriting…handwriting looks the same too.' Danny's voice suddenly sounded hoarse, as if he was struggling to speak. He read the poem and then turned the card over and read the words on the back.

_Don_

_No red roses or satin hearts._

_Just my heart and soul,_

_for always and_

_forever._

_Ellie_

_x_

'Shit Don, who the hell is doing this?' The anger in his voice and the flash in his eyes acted as an anchor to Flack's own turmoil, but he still couldn't form the words. Danny's anger continued at a steady burn. 'Who knew about the poems and the significance of Valentine's Day?'

He shook his head, and took a deep steadying breath, 'Only our parents ever knew I proposed on Valentine's Day' The two men stared at each other as Flack finally forced the words out. 'But they didn't know about the poems. No-one knew about them other than me…and Ellie.'

The expression on Danny's face froze. 'You mean the only person who could have done this is Ellie?'

The weight that had been crushing him lifted slightly. 'Yes.'

'But…' Danny stopped, unable to continue. Flack forced himself to say the words.

'But…she died nearly six years ago.'

Danny shook his head. 'This is _crazy_…so we're saying, what? That…that this was done by a _ghost_?'

Far below, his shadow stepped into the glow cast by the street light and stared up at the two men silhouetted against the apartment window.

* * *

**AN2**: The poem Danny read from is **Kissing **by** Peter Meinke**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **Thanks to **SallyJetson** and **Notesofwimsey**. They know why.

* * *

**Chapter 4 **

* * *

'Danny?'

'Hey, Mac.' Danny took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose as another wave of tiredness swept over him.

'What are you doing here? You're not on shift for another four hours.'

'Neither are you.'

Mac shrugged. 'Couldn't sleep so I thought I'd get a head start on getting the Anderson case ready for trial.' His gaze lingered on the items on the table in front of Danny as he frowned. 'I don't recognise any of these. What are you working on?'

'Tell the truth Mac, I'm not sure.' He hesitated then rushed on before he could change his mind. 'You ever have a situation where all the evidence is pointing one way but you know that it isn't possible for the evidence to be right?'

Mac took the seat next to Danny as he considered the question for a moment. 'Well, in my experience the evidence is the evidence, the interpretation is something else. What are we talking about?'

'A dead woman's prints and DNA on a card sent less than a week ago.'

Mac's eyebrows rose slightly. 'Well fingerprints and DNA can last up to 40 years on card. They could have been placed there before she died unless you're telling me she died longer ago than that?'

'No, she died six years ago but the stamp,' Danny picked up the slide the stamp now sat on and slid it across the table to Mac, 'was issued three months ago and the DNA I took from it is a match to hers. I even cross referenced it to a control sample we hold for her father. It's definitely hers Mac.'

Mac's expression sharpened. 'Who are we talking about Danny?'

'Ellie Maguire.'

'_What_?'

Danny sighed. 'Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction,' he indicated towards the card and the book of poetry, both laying on the work top 'and there's more and I'm telling you Mac, none of this is making any sense to me, whatever the 'evidence' is saying.'

'Tell me.' The after effects of the shock he had just received were evident in Mac's clipped tone. Danny pushed the card towards him.

'On Thursday, Don received this card. The picture on the front is of his and Ellie's first kiss which happened on Valentine's Day; the picture on the inside is a reference to the fact that he proposed on Valentine's Day.' He caught the slight surprise on Mac's face at this information but didn't pause. 'Last night he woke up thinking he heard someone in the apartment. He chased them but couldn't catch them. When he got back he found this book lying open on the table.'

Mac looked confused. Danny elaborated. 'It was a favourite poem of Ellie's; a reference to their first kiss. The drawing inside the card is a reference to a poem she sent him when she said 'yes' to his proposal.'

'Where's the book usually kept?' Mac was all business again.

'Top shelf of the bookcase and before last night it hadn't been moved in nearly six years.'

Mac's face tightened. 'Any signs of a break in?'

'None. If someone was in the apartment they got in without leaving a mark on the door.'

'_If_ someone was in there? You don't think anyone was?'

Danny ran his hand distractedly through his hair. 'I don't know what to think Mac. According to Don only two people knew the significance of the poems; him and Ellie.'

Mac nodded thoughtfully, his eyes searching the items on the table. 'So what are we saying?'

'I don't know. She's been dead nearly six years but it IS her DNA on that stamp. No-one else knew about the poems but someone made and sent that card so that it arrived with Don on Valentine's Day.'

'And the DNA reference we hold on file is definitely hers? There hasn't been a mistake?'

'I checked it against the NYPD control sample held for her father. It proves the DNA on the stamp is from a close relative, and the fingerprints on the card are a confirmed match to Ellie. I'll need a DNA sample from her mother to prove the DNA evidence beyond all doubt, but…'.

Mac nodded. 'You're right, this doesn't make sense. _Yet_.' He paused for a moment, marshalling his thoughts. 'OK, where's Don?'

'I have no idea. Took off a couple of hours ago and he isn't answering his phone.'

* * *

He silenced the phone in his pocket yet again before checking the number on the screen.

_901-555-2365_.

The message next to it told him it was the fourth call from that number he'd missed that morning. The phone began to vibrate again. This time the screen showed _Danny – cell_. He silenced it again and turned it off. They could all wait.

He stepped out of the car and began to walk. Ribbons of fog swirled and danced around him, making everywhere strange and unfamiliar, but his steps didn't falter as he made his way rapidly through the monuments.

Her headstone was simple white stone.

Eleanor Maguire

Born: 3rd May 1978

Died: 23rd March 2002

_Where there is much light, _

_the shadows are deepest_.

He crouched down, his eyes searching the plot for something, _anything_, that would help explain what was happening.

_Come on Ellie, you gonna help me?_

A bouquet of flowers lying against the headstone gave him pause. He picked it up; a hand tied bunch of blood red gerberas. His heart quickened.

_Red gerberas? The last flowers I bought you were red gerberas to say sorry for missing Sunday lunch and a mammoth wedding planning session with our parents. _

A card poked through the flowers. He plucked it out.

_I've always been in love with you I swear_

'_Impossible,' they say, yet it is true:_

_I speak with certainty, for I was there__. _

The shock made him dizzy for a moment before the anger he had nurtured with whiskey last night and bitter memories this morning came to his rescue.

_For fucks sake….. _

Footsteps crunching across gravel made him look up. A figure approached through the fog. Even before he recognised the features he knew who it was.

'Danny told you.' It was a statement not a question.

'Yes.' Mac stopped at his side indicating towards the flowers. 'Another message?'

'Yes.'

'Can I have a look?'

He forced his legs to push him upright and handed the flowers and card to Mac. 'It looks like Ellie's handwriting. The verse is from a poem…it was read at her funeral.' His throat tightened at the memory.

Mac took the card, holding it carefully in gloved hands as he read the verse. Then he frowned. 'Do you have any idea what's going on here?'

For a long moment Flack stood silent, fighting the burning behind his eyes. Desperately stoking the fuel of his anger, hands clenched into fists, he stared at the headstone. 'I want it to mean she's alive, but –'

A hand dropped onto his shoulder in silent support.

They stood for a while longer before Mac spoke gently. 'Come on, lets get this back to the Lab and see if we can make some sense of it all.'

The shadow watched the two men walk away before moving to stand in front of the headstone, a satisfied smile slowly appearing on her face.

'Soon…very soon now.'

The wind caught the words and tossed them away.

* * *

**AN2**: The verse is from '**A Love Song**' by **Vernon Scannell**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Thanks as always to **SallyJetson** who (yet again) helped with the translation from English (UK) to English (US), as well as providing some other thoughtful comments that helped shape this chapter.

Thanks also to everyone who has been kind enough to post a review. I really am very grateful for you taking the time to let me know your thoughts :)

* * *

**Chapter Five**

* * *

The fog had lifted, leaving iron grey, rain leaden clouds blocking the sun, casting an evening palate over the early afternoon. With no light on in the room, the grey half light creeping around the blinds had turned him into a shadow.

'Don?'

Stella closed the door on the warmth and light and noise of people going about their lives and stepped into a chilled silence that seemed to seep into her bones.

He didn't move. She pulled out the chair next to his and sat down before gently touching one of his hands. It was icy cold.

'Don.'

His head lifted slightly and he turned his face towards hers; shadowed sockets empty of all she recognised as being him meeting her eyes briefly before dropping back to stare at his clenched hands resting on the table top.

Without thinking she reached for one hand. He made no effort to stop her but nor did he acknowledge that it now lay between hers as she chaffed it in a futile attempt to warm it, or maybe to provide some sort of comfort, she wasn't sure. She wanted to put her arms around him and hold him; infuse his body with her warmth, provide a buffer to his pain; instead she gave his hand one last squeeze and then let go.

'Mac and Danny told us what's happened.' He lifted his head, swivelling it slightly so he could meet her eyes. 'You know that Danny has found Ellie's prints on the card that was sent to you?' A muscle in his neck started to jump to an erratic beat. 'And that DNA that could be hers was on the stamp?'

She jumped as he moved suddenly; tilting his head back and rubbing his hands over his face before meeting her eyes again.

'Yeah, Mac explained.'

She took a deep calming breath. 'The prints…we have a test we can do…it lets us know how old they are.' The mix of pain, anger and hope she saw in his eyes had her throat tightening. 'The test has a tolerance of plus or minus a year…we estimate the prints are around five years old.'

She waited, watching as the hope that had flickered for a moment, was extinguished.

'So the card was probably made before she died.' His voice was flat, emotionless.

'We can't be certain –'

'She's _dead_, Stella. I'd say it's a fairly safe conclusion.' The sudden switch to anger as he cast off the veneer of control made her flinch. She forced herself to stay calm and to keep talking.

'There is the DNA though, and –'

' – and Mac's already explained that its not a conclusive match. That the best you can say is that it's a close match.' He stood up suddenly, sending his chair spinning backwards and crashing into the wall. 'Seems to me that the _evidence_ isn't saying much at all.'

'We've used her father's control sample. The DNA on the stamp could be his daughter, but to be certain it's Ellie we need a DNA sample from her mother –'

'_No_.'.

'Don –'

'The DNA can't be hers. She's _dead_.'

'Don -.'

'Dead, Stella. I don't know any science that changes that, do you?'

'No, Don –'

'I won't do this to Declan and Maggie. I won't dangle some impossible dream in front of them.' His voice cracked and his knuckles showed white as he balled his fists. She rushed on.

'We won't, Don, I promise.'

'Really? Because I can't see how to get a DNA sample from Maggie without explaining why it's needed.'

She stood up, meeting his anger head on. 'Then you need to trust me.'

He stared at her, a stranger lurking behind the eyes of the man she knew.

'Trust me, Don.'

His hands disappeared into his pockets as he turned away to stare out of the window, a shrug of his shoulders all the answer he gave.

* * *

'Danny, are you OK?'

A hand rested briefly on his arm before it was suddenly withdrawn leaving him feeling bereft and lonelier than he could ever remember feeling. He turned his head to meet guarded brown eyes, wishing he could tell her the truth; knowing that he couldn't.

'Yeah…yeah, I'm ok.'

She slid into the chair next to him; the first time she'd voluntarily been that close since…

He ran his hands through his hair, unable to face his demons; preferring to focus on helping his friend.

'I didn't know that Don had ever been engaged.'

An oblique offer to let him talk if it would help; the memory of the last time she'd tried to help him and his subsequent actions rose like a glass wall between them.

He wanted to talk to her; tried desperately to find the words, but the words wouldn't come, so he remained mute, and had to watch as the shutters came down in the face of his apparent rejection; had to watch as she stood and walked away again.

* * *

'Why was the investigation carried out by the Feds? Shouldn't it have been the State Police as the accident happened on the interstate?'

Mac scanned the documentation in front of him rapidly. 'Apparently they wanted to make sure it wasn't linked to the Hemmingway case. Ellie was the main witness for the prosecution and some threats had been made after he was convicted.'

Hawkes eyebrows shot up. 'I remember that case. Professor at NYU selling grades for sexual favours, right?'

'That's the one.'

Hawkes frowned. 'So how was Ellie involved?'

Mac turned some more pages, silent for a moment while he read the reports.

'She was working as a Graduate Assistant to Professor Luther Steiner. She stayed late one night and overheard Hemmingway attempting to coerce a student and reported him. It snowballed from there.'

'So she was Steiner's GA? I remember him. Incredibly fussy who he worked with; she must have been good.'

'I only met her once.' Mac sat back, staring out of the window. 'We had a long discussion about the corrosive properties of super acids and poetry.' A smile twisted his face. 'She was very bright; she and Don made a good couple.'

Silence fell for a moment, then Mac sat forward. 'I want you to go over the reports of the car accident. The forensics, the witnesses, _everything_ there is.'

Hawkes stared at him, surprise showing openly on his face. 'You think…what? That she didn't die in the accident?'

'I think someone is trying to make Don believe that Ellie is responsible for what is happening so I think we need to go back to the beginning and look at everything. There is a reason why this is happening and I don't believe in ghosts.'

* * *

Flack sat with his head back and his eyes closed as Stella drove them through the early afternoon traffic, finally conceding defeat in his attempt to suppress the memories that jostled for attention.

_He remembered long lazy afternoons spent in bed; the softness of her skin; the smell of her hair; of losing 'him' and becoming 'them'._

_He remembered how much he'd loved coming home when she was there and how much he hated it when she wasn't._

_He remembered his father arriving at the precinct, white faced; determined that he wouldn't hear the news from anyone else._

_He remembered the feeling of pain; black and overwhelming. Of falling into an endless void…_

'Don.'

The controlled urgency in Stella's voice threw him a lifeline from the past to the present. He turned to look at her. Her eyes were flickering between the road and the rear view mirror.

'Stell?'

'I think we're being followed.'


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **Thanks to the wonderful** SallyJetson** who helped with this chapter. I hope you enjoy it – next one will be up by the end of the week.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

* * *

Darkness fell early as the rain hurled itself at the city, piercing its façade of order; exposing the pollutants just below its surface until they foamed and surged across the sidewalks, running in torrents down the streets.

Cast into shadow by the city's gloom she stood and stared up at his apartment; the light from its windows barely visible through the unrelieved greyness. Uncaring of the icy rain that sliced through her clothing, she silently berated herself for her carelessness.

She had got too close.

She had nearly been seen.

She knew she should leave but couldn't tear herself away, preferring instead to merge with the growing twilight and continue to watch and wait.

* * *

Stella stood at the window, neither seeing nor hearing the fury of the storm outside; aware only of the growing storm within.

She knew the story of how Declan Maguire's daughter, his precious only child, had been killed in a car accident upstate. Maguire was an NYPD legend with an arrest record, along with his long term partner, Donald Flack Snr, that was second to none. The story had made page five of the Post; even the Times had run it. The NYPD, always quick to close ranks around one of its own, had mourned with him.

But she didn't remember hearing about Flack. It had been months after they had started working together that she had discovered the connection, and by then it was too late to say anything. He appeared to be fine, had never shown any outward sign of the depth of his loss, but now she wondered if the quickness and warmth of his smile and his dry wit was as much a protective shield as it was a sign of the intelligence and humanity of the man.

The sound of the shower, barely audible above the pounding of the rain against the windows, ceased. She had expected him to argue or flat out refuse when she had stopped at his apartment and told him that a change of clothes and a shower were required. Instead, to her relief, he had concurred without comment; allowing her to gather her strength ready for the much bigger battle she sensed lay ahead of them.

She shivered again, wrapping her arms protectively about herself. She had turned on all the lights and turned up the thermostat when they had arrived yet she still couldn't shake off the feeling of a cold, malevolent presence hovering near by; the feeling that she'd first had in the car before she'd noticed a blue Ford that seemed to be staying too close.

Her eyes slowly focused again, staring down at the barely visible street and the shadows that moved there, aware of a sudden and irrational desire to close the blinds.

The gurgling of the coffee machine broke her reverie. She moved to the kitchen, pouring two mugs of coffee and placing them on the table next to a large fabric covered photo album as he emerged from the bedroom, his two day old suit and crumpled shirt replaced by jeans and a sweatshirt. He took his seat without a word, wrapping his hands around the mug and beginning to drink its scalding hot contents without any outward sign of discomfort.

She took the seat next to him, desperate to reach out to him, determined not to let him lose focus.

'Tell me about her.' Dark, angry eyes met hers. She persisted. 'Tell me about Ellie.' She reached for the photo album and opened it at a random page. The laughing face of a young woman, her green eyes alight with happiness as her hair swirled around her face, stared up at her. She pushed it towards him, refusing to back down. 'Tell me about this picture.'

She met his fury with an artificial calm until his eyes dropped reluctantly to stare at the page she had pushed towards him.

* * *

'Hey…um,…have you got a minute?' Adam's voice interrupted Lindsay's thoughts. She looked up from the sample she had been pretending to study as he continued without waiting for an answer.

'I've run some more tests on the envelope and done some research on it and the card and I think I've got something…well I know I've got something it's just that it doesn't make any sense. I mean I've run the tests three times to be sure and I've double checked my sources and I know my findings are correct but it just doesn't make sense because she died before –'

'Adam, slow down. Start from the beginning.' Lindsay caught hold of his arm, alarmed by the distress she detected in his voice even as her interest was piqued by his words.

He stared at her earnestly. 'I just can't see how it can be right, you see?'

Purposeful footsteps behind them announced the arrival of Mac and Danny into the room before she could ask any questions. Mac's face tightened when he spotted Adam.

'Adam, I've been looking for you. Have you got the results of the tests on the card and the envelope?'

Lindsay stepped forward, blocking Adam from Mac and Danny's view. 'Adam had just come to see if I knew where you were. He has something he thinks will interest us.'

Three pairs of eyes studied her. She could feel the gratitude emanating from Adam; interest from Mac and something she chose to ignore from Danny. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on Mac's face until his expression relaxed, then she stepped aside, throwing an encouraging look at Adam.

'Er…well, I got the handwriting on the envelope analysed. The writing is in block capitals but Danny bought back some samples to compare it to and there is a 90 percent match –'

'We know that Ellie handled the card and there is no reason to say she didn't place it into the envelope and address it. The tests show it could have been done before she died.' Danny cut Adam off, rocking back and forth on his heels impatiently.

'Why would she _send_ a card to Don? Why not just give it to him? They lived together.' Mac posed the question, his face creased in a frown as he continued to think aloud. 'I mean, the pictures on the card all referred to a specific date, Valentine's Day. Did she forget to give it to him on Valentine's Day and someone has since got hold of it and, for some reason, decided to send it now?'

'Someone who can only be a sister or a half sister … and wasn't Ellie an only child?' Lindsay kept her eyes focused on Mac, refusing to make eye contact with Danny.

Mac shrugged. 'Declan Maguire wouldn't be the first man who erred, would he?'

'No, he wouldn't.' Her words dropped like a stone into the middle of a stagnant pond; heat reddening her cheeks as she caught the understanding in Mac's eyes.

'The dating of the fingerprints...we're assuming that it's plus one year, but what if it's not?' Adam, oblivious to the undertones, stepped forward.

'What do you mean, Adam?' Mac looked confused.

'The card and envelope…they come as a 'kit' for people who want to make their own greeting cards. They are high quality and there is a watermark. I did some research. They were made by a company based out of Nashville, Tennessee. They were only sold through a limited number of retail outlets, all of which were in Tennessee, Mississippi and Alabama.'

Adam paused, looking expectantly at Mac who shrugged.

'OK, so someone gave a kit to Ellie. She was a GA at NYU; they have students coming from all over the country. I don't understand the significance.'

Adam shook his head, stepping closer in his excitement. 'Sorry…sorry…I…they couldn't have given her a kit…' his words tumbled from his lips now; '…they didn't start manufacturing these until September 2002…six months after she died.'


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **Thanks to **SallyJetson** for her continuing support and patience.

**Warning:** There is a bit of bad language in this chapter.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, placed this on alerts and made this a favourite.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

'Brooklyn Bridge'

He didn't miss the slight sigh as Stella released the breath she had been holding, but now the memories were crowding in, clamouring for his attention, and he didn't have the strength left to hold them at bay. He ran one finger down the side of the smiling face in the photo.

'May 4th 1998.'

'You remember the date?'

'Her 20th birthday…well, day after.'

'_So what do you want to do?' Arms tightening around her; making the most of the final few minutes together before going their separate ways._

'_We're going to be tourists for the day.' A gurgle of laughter as she saw his face._

'_Tourists?'_

'_My birthday, my rules. You'll enjoy it; I promise.'_

Smiling at the memory. 'She decided we were going to be tourists for a day. We did Liberty Island, Central Park, The Empire State and the Brooklyn Bridge.' Finger pointing towards the hair that whipped around her face. 'Her hair clip broke when we were half way across. I took that picture.'

'She's beautiful.'

_Sitting on a bench in Central Park as they finished up a dinner of hot dogs and ice-cream; feeling as if they hadn't stopped laughing all day. 'So what's next on the list?'_

'_The bit you'll like best.'_

_Interest piqued. 'Really? More than freezing to death on the ferry this morning?'_

_A giggle and a crumpled piece of paper pulled from her pocket and handed to him. A quick scan before his jaw dropped._

'_You're kidding me?'_

'_No'_

'_Declan will cut off my balls…or lock you into your room until you turn 30…or both.''_

_Her mouth seeking his, hinting at what was to come. 'It'll be worth it, I promise.'_

'We were sitting in the park, eating dogs and ice-cream, and she pulled out a letter confirming a room at a hotel for the night.' He finally looked up. 'Declan was protective. Wasn't having it that his baby could possibly be doing anything more than holding hands and we were both still living at home, saving up to get a place together when she graduated. Didn't give us many opportunities to...' An awkward shrug.

Stella's mouth curled into a smile. 'He really didn't think the two of you were doing anything more than kissing? How long had you been dating at this point?'

'Just over three years…and I don't know if he truly believed that nothing had happened or if he just couldn't cope with the thought that it had.'

'So how did he react to the two of you being out all night?'

'I think he wanted to bust my balls but once Ellie pointed out she'd booked the room he backed down.'

'Why have you never spoken about her, Don?'

The question sent ice along his spine. How often had he done this? Pushed to try and get someone to tell him something that would help him solve a crime. His hands balled into fists, his eyes dropping to stare at the laughing face in the picture.

'_It's your fault…you did this.'_

_His fist slamming into flesh; feeling the warmth of free flowing blood._

'_Shut up…just shut the fuck up.'_

_Shouting and hands pulling him away as he was left with guilt. Overwhelming, gut wrenching guilt._

'Don?'

Darkness swamped him. He began to blindly turn the pages of the photo album.

'Don?'

A knock at the door halted the descent. Her hand resting briefly on his arm, 'I'll get it' and she was gone. He took deep steadying breaths, hearing voices but not hearing them, until the door closed again and then,

'Don?'

Not her voice; his fathers.

* * *

'Guys, I have something.' Hawkes paused as four pairs of eyes turned to face him. 'Whoa, what's happened?'

Mac indicated towards Adam. 'The card that Don received; Adam has discovered it wasn't manufactured until six months after Ellie died and –'

'-and we're all trying to get our heads around the fact that the only way her finger prints could have got on it is if she didn't die in that accident.' Danny paced back and forth, hands wrapped around his body.

Hawkes opened his mouth, trying to find the right words, failed and closed it again.

'Sheldon, what have you found?' Lindsay's gaze switched back to him from where she had been tracking Danny's erratic path around the evidence table.

He took a deep breath, marshalling his thoughts. 'I looked over the file of the investigation into the accident.' He met Mac's eyes. 'The body was burned beyond all recognition. No DNA match was possible, so the identification came from the witnesses who saw Ellie Maguire getting into her car moments before she crashed.'

'Getting into the car?' Mac frowned.

'She had stopped at a rest stop. A Mr and Mrs Dawson saw her getting back into her car. They followed her out onto the highway, said she was travelling at speed when she appeared to lose control and the car went off the road, down the slope, hit a tree and burst into flames. They called 911 but they were in their 70's – no way they could get down the thirty foot drop to reach her.'

'So, no DNA?'

'No.'

'OK, but that's not what you came to tell me, is it?'

Hawkes shook his head. 'No, it isn't.' A quick glance at Danny. 'I have some photographs from the autopsy, such as it was.' The pictures of blackened flesh and bone laid out for all to see. An audible intake of breath from Danny. Hawkes rushed on.

'The heat caused many of the bones to break,' Danny turned away, his head tipped back, jaw rigid, 'but here,' Hawkes pointed at one photograph as both Mac and Lindsay stepped forward, 'you can see a pin in the left radius.'

'From a previous break?' Mac's face suggested he was impatient to get to the point.

'Yes, and from the condition of the pin I'd suggest that the break had happened in the two years prior to death –'

'Ellie never broke her arm.' Danny stepped forward now, face intense. 'I know she didn't. We spoke about broken bones one time, after I hurt my arm and it was put in a cast. She told me she had never broken any bones.'

Hawkes nodded, rushing now to get his words out. 'I checked the length of the bones. Ellie Maguire was 5ft 8inches tall. Whoever was killed in her car was at least 2 inches shorter than that.'

* * *

'What are you doing here?'

'Detective Bonasera called and explained what's going on. I bought her a sample of Maggie's hair-' hand held up before he could protest, '-I may have retired but I'm not stupid. Declan and Maggie don't know anything. I made an excuse and dropped in to see them; took the hair from Maggie's brush in the bathroom.'

'Right.' He stood up and collected his shield, gun, wallet and keys. 'I'm going to the lab. Maybe someone can let me know what the fuck is going on.'

'You don't want to talk?'

'About what? About how someone appears determined to make me believe that my _dead_ fiancée isn't dead after all?'

'Don –'

'You know what, Dad? Don't. Just don't.'

'You have to stop blaming yourself –'

'Really? We both know what I did. We both know the result.'

He didn't wait for a response.

Slamming the apartment door behind him, he took the stairs at speed desperate to get away from the memories. Stepping into the damp, freezing darkness of the early evening he welcomed the shadows that closed around him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note:** Thanks to SallyJetson for her help with parts of this chapter, and thank you to everyone who has reviewed, put this on alert or made it a favourite. I hope you enjoy the next chapter :)

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

Pressed back into the shadows; concealed by the gathering darkness, she waited, her eyes never wavering from the front door of his building.

The woman with the curly hair left, her coat pulled over her head to keep off the rain, her eyes scanning the street, searching for something or someone.

Searching for her if she did but know it.

She wondered again who she was. A colleague? A friend? A lover?

A few moments later _he_ left, stepping quickly into the night, swallowed up by the city.

Stepping out from the shadows, she followed him.

* * *

'_You have to stop blaming yourself'_

His coat was no barrier to the falling temperatures but he welcomed the cold. It penetrated to his very bones; it was the first thing he'd truly felt in two days.

'_Why have you never spoken about her, Don?'_

The icy rain ran down his neck, under his collar yet it seemed warmer than the chill that encased his heart.

'_The DNA can't be hers. She's __dead'_

He reached the subway entrance but continued past, preferring the walk; feeling his head finally starting to clear itself of the fog that had muddled his thoughts since he'd opened the card.

'_Danny, you have to stop blaming yourself for Ruban Sandoval's death. You have to move on.'_

Just like he hadn't.

The businesses along the street threw light onto the water that gushed over the sidewalk; emeralds glinting ahead signalled his arrival outside Flannigan's Irish Bar and Grill. He paused for only a moment before he continued his trudge through the chaos of the city, preferring cold hard reality to temporary comfort.

Preferring, finally, to remember rather than forget.

* * *

'Detective Mac Taylor, New York Crime Lab, to see Special Agent Robert Foster.'

The hair on the blond, 40-something receptionist's head didn't move as she bent to check her computer screen. A few moments study, then suspicious eyes scrutinised the credentials he held towards her and then him.

'I can't see that you are expected Detective Taylor. Agent Foster is a very busy man and I can't see that he has time to speak to you at the moment.' The expression on her face was of disinterest; her voice contained a hint of smug satisfaction. Confident she'd dealt with the problem her eyes slid past him.

He stepped closer, bending towards her, forcing her to meet his eyes as he lowered his voice.

'Tell him it's about Charles Hemmingway and Ellie Maguire. Tell him I know what happened and he can talk to me or he can talk to a reporter from the New York Times.'

He took perverse pleasure in wiping the disinterested look off her face.

* * *

The rain continued to pummel the city; each drop a lance, piercing the armour he'd worn for so long.

Time was supposed to help; supposed to heal.

Time hadn't made any damn difference.

He could still close his eyes and see her face; hear her voice; smell her perfume. Pushing the memories away; closing them off from anyone and everyone was the only way he had been able to function; the only way the pain hadn't crippled him.

The only way he'd been able to convince himself that she really was dead.

The only way he'd been able to cope with the knowledge that he'd killed her.

* * *

'Mac? Strong arm tactics to get in? You couldn't just phone?'

'You'd have dodged the call.'

Sharp grey eyes in a benign politicians face. A hand waved expansively towards the seat on the other side of the polished wood desk; jaw tightening imperceptibly as the invitation was refused and he remained standing.

A shrug. 'So you wanted to talk about the Hemmingway case? Have to say I was a bit surprised. I don't remember the crime lab being involved in that one.'

A folder full of photographs thrown onto the monument of a man's ambition. 'I want to talk about why the FBI falsified evidence in the enquiry into the death of Ellie Maguire.'

'I have no idea-'

'Don't fuck me about Rob. She didn't die in that crash and you know it.'

'And you know that some things are classified way above your level of clearance, _Detective_.'

'I can prove the eyewitnesses to her accident don't exist. I can prove that it wasn't her body in that car. I can prove that she was alive at least six months after the crash.'

'And?'

'And either you start giving me some answers or I go to the press.'

'And I'll stop the story and end your career.'

Reed's eager face swam to the forefront of his mind. He smiled. 'This is the age of the internet. If I decide to leak a story about the FBI's staggering level of incompetence in the investigation of a top cop's daughter it will be around the city before you've had time to make a phone call.'

'And your career is over.'

'Some things are worth taking that risk for. Where is she?'

Eyes locked in a silent struggle; victory signalled by hands run agitatedly through thinning hair.

'Mac, this is classified. If the US Marshalls office knew I was even talking to you…'

'Witness Protection? Why?'

'Hemmingway has a terminal brain cancer which was diagnosed shortly after the trial. It radically affected his behaviour leading him to make some death threats against Ellie Maguire which we investigated and largely discounted until some new information came to us.'

Hesitation as his eyes searched the implacable face across the desk from him before he reluctantly continued.

'The information we received showed that Hemmingway had hired a hit man to kill Ellie Maguire, but only after he'd killed her parents and her boyfriend. Hemmingway wanted her to suffer for putting him behind bars.'

'And on that basis you took her into witness protection?' He made no attempt to hide his disgust and disbelief. 'Why not a protection detail? Investigate and find out who Hemmingway hired? Why go to the extreme of faking her death?'

'We did investigate. Whoever Hemmingway hired was good and the information we had was that there was no time limit on this; days, weeks, months, years. As long as her parents and the boyfriend died first and she suffered. The decision was taken that she should be persuaded to 'die' in an accident in the hopes that Hemmingway would react by calling off the hit on her parents and boyfriend. We reasoned that if she was dead he wouldn't bother with them. Then we'd trace the communication and find out who'd been hired. Then she could come out of the programme.'

'But it didn't work, did it?'

Eyes sliding past his; embarrassment evident. 'No.'

'So where is she?'

'Mac, I can't-'

'Tell me where she is.'

'I can't-'

'_Tell me_.'

'She disappeared four years ago. We have no idea where she is.'

* * *

Something nagged at him; itching like a day old rash.

He'd planned on heading to the lab and demanding some answers yet somehow here he was, standing at his desk, staring at the pile of messages that were piled haphazardly next to the phone.

'Don?' Jess was staring at him, worry in her eyes. 'Are you OK?'

'Yeah, I'm fine,' the well practiced lie came easily, 'just looking for something.' He just wasn't sure what.

'OK, well…we're going for a drink if you'd like to join us.' Her arm waved to the woman standing next to her desk. Flat green eyes in a pale face stared back at him. 'Actually, I should introduce you. This is Kate Robertson; she and I were at the Academy together.'

He waved a hand in the general direction, his eyes already sliding back to the desk.

'Don?' A hint of impatience in her voice.

'Er, no, sorry, can't; things to do.' He looked up at Kate Robertson. 'Nice to meet you.'

He turned his attention back to his desk, vaguely aware of when the women left the room as he started aimlessly straightening files, trying to work out what had bought him here.

A flash of red in a pile of otherwise unrelieved beige and his stomach began to free fall.

Liberated from the pile of reports, the handwriting on the front of the envelope was all too familiar.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** Apologies for the slight delay in posting this chapter - I've re-written it three times now so I hope this version works. Thanks to **notesofwimsey** for her wise words; they came just in time to stop me testing the aerodynamic properties of a Dell!

I hope you enjoy the latest installment.

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

The rain was a metallic beat bouncing off cars; trash cans and windows; a backbeat to the noise of the bar as it pulsed onto the street, reaching a crescendo everytime the door opened to provide refuge to another sodden soul or to cast another traveller back into the storm.

She huddled under inadequate cover, her back pressed against the wall in an attempt to avoid the rain, her eyes fixed on the door of the precinct just yards away.

Frustration surged through her; unsettling her as she felt her control slipping away.

She wanted to be there when he found the envelope; to be there when he saw the contents.

A steadying breath.

She had to believe she could do this.

Another breath.

She had to trust that her planning was thorough; that her instincts were good.

Heart rate steadying.

Soon…soon he would be forced to tell them…tell _him_, and then all the pieces would be in play. Then it would be time to move to the endgame.

The dizzy feeling of success within her grasp. She allowed herself a few moments indulgence; a few moments to gloat at the thought of how he would react to the contents of the envelope.

Stepping out of the doorway, ducking her head against the rain, she collided with a grey raincoat. Looking up she saw a strong face topped by iron grey hair. For the briefest of moments startling blue eyes met cool green.

Eyes she recognised.

He stepped past with a murmur but she was anchored to the spot, her eyes following him until he entered the precinct and was lost to view.

She tried to tell herself that the shiver that ran through her was caused by the rapidly dropping temperature.

* * *

Shaking the rain from his coat he paused at the doorway, taking a moment to absorb the familiar bustle of the precinct; acknowledging and then quickly dismissing the feeling of loss. Returning smiles of recognition with a quick nod of his head he made his way across the floor, his eyes fixed on the blood red envelope clasped in white knuckled hands; noting the tension in broad shoulders.

Pulling out a chair he dropped his lengthy frame into it. Wary eyes stared at him.

'What are you doing here?'

'Obviously I'm here to see you. What's going on, Don?'

An irritable shrug. 'No idea, but I've just found this.' The envelope was sent spinning across the desk towards him. He picked it up and turned it over. It was still sealed.

'Well, aren't you going to open it?'

'I should take it to the lab; get them to check for prints and DNA.'

'Sure, why not. Easier than opening it isn't it?'

'There could evidence on it-'

'For fucks sake, Don, this is your _life_, not another damn _case_.' Pushing the envelope so it skidded back across the desk to land in front of the intended recipient. 'Don't you want to know what's inside?'

He watched as fury, pain, curiosity and weariness all fought for dominance.

He watched, and his heart ached, as his son picked the envelope up, turning it over and staring at the seal before letting it fall to the desk again.

'You open it.' The words, a request for help, were torn from him.

* * *

Adam slid through the door into the break room unobserved by the group gathered loosely together, report clutched tightly in his hand.

Stella sat on a high stool, hands wrapped around a long forgotten mug of coffee, elbows resting on the table in front of her as she stared into space, her brow creased into a frown.

Danny stood slightly apart from the others, propped against the wall, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. His eyes remained fixed on Lindsay who was pretending to read a science journal; her eyes working down the page and then flicking back to the top and starting again. As Adam watched she glanced at Stella; she didn't look at Danny.

Hawkes appeared the calmest, seemingly immersed in a book, but the shredded napkin on the table in front of him and the constant clenching and unclenching of his left hand told a different tale.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, taking a step backwards as four pairs of eyes were immediately riveted on him.

'I've got the result of the DNA test.'

'And?' Stella and Danny spoke together.

'And…well, I've checked it…twice…well, more than twice actually, and…well…' he thrust the pages of the report at Stella who snatched them and scanned them quickly. The others gathered around her, all reading the results he'd checked not twice but four times.

He pressed himself back against the wall and waited.

* * *

'Mac.'

'Don.'

'You know my father.'

'Of course.' The handshake was firm; brilliant blue eyes, only slightly dimmed by age, meeting his calmly. 'Good to see you again, sir.'

'I retired five years ago, Detective. You don't need to call me sir.'

He nodded briefly, too concerned about the likely reaction to his news to be bothered about pleasantries. 'Don, I've got some news…it's not going to be easy to hear.'

Arms crossed defensively and a shrug of the shoulders to indicate he should continue.

He knew there was no point in trying to soften the blow.

'Ellie didn't die in the car crash. It was arranged by the FBI to try and draw out the hit man hired by Hemmingway.' He paused, waiting; suspicious when he got no reaction; watching as father and son exchanged looks; a silent conversation seemingly taking place before the older man produced a red envelope.

'Don found this hidden in a pile of files on his desk earlier this evening, just before your call.' The envelope was tipped up and a booklet spilled out.

He slipped on a pair of gloves before he picked it up, turning it over to reveal the front cover, before nearly dropping it again.

He looked up, searching the younger man's face, seeing the agony hidden in the depth of his eyes.

'Christ, Don…this is…' He looked down again at the 'Order of Service' in his hands.

_You are invited to celebrate the death of_

_**Eleanor Maguire**_

_Born 3rd May 1978_

_Death scheduled for 6pm, Monday 18__th__ February 2008_

_Dress formal, black preferred._

_Bring casket._


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **Here is the next instalment – hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

'Mac, we've got the DNA results-'

Stella's near run into Mac's office came to an abrupt halt as she took in the sombre expressions on the faces of the three men standing around Mac's desk.

'What's happened?' She stepped into the office, Danny close on her heels. 'Mac? What's happened?'

'Don found this on his desk a short while ago.' Mac ripped off one of his gloves and used it to hand the booklet to Stella. After a brief questioning look she dropped her gaze, holding the booklet so that Danny could read it as well.

'Fucking hell…this is just…just…_sick_-'

'What does this mean, Mac?' Stella stepped forward, effectively cutting off Danny's tirade.

'I would say that's obvious, wouldn't you?' Everyone turned to look at Flack's father. 'It means Ellie is alive and someone has her and intends to kill her, or make Don believe they will kill her.'

Mac, Stella and Danny all stared at him before Mac sighed. 'It's one explanation.'

'You have another?' The controlled fury of the older man showed in his rigid self control.

Mac hesitated, his glance slipping sideways to look at where Flack stood, his back to everyone, staring out of the window.

'Suicide.' Flack turned to face them, a blank expression on his face. 'Mac's trying to tell you this could be Ellie telling us she's going to commit suicide.' He turned his face to look at Mac. 'That's it isn't it?'

A reluctant nod from Mac was met by a snort from his father. 'Then you don't know the same girl I knew…know-'

'Knew.' Eyes swivelled back to look at Flack again. 'We _knew_ her, Dad. She's been gone nearly six years and in all that time she hasn't tried to get in contact. Now I get cards and poems and midnight visits and flowers left on her grave and then _this_,' his hand waved dismissively towards the booklet still held by Stella. He met his father's eyes. 'Does that sound like the girl we knew?'

'It wasn't-'

'She disappeared from the Witness Protection program four years ago.'

Danny's attempt to speak was lost as Mac began to talk, his forceful tone commanding attention.

'She was relocated to Birmingham, Alabama. Her name was changed to Ellen Marsden and she went to work for a medical research company. Agent Foster tells me that she was resigned to the situation but was obviously depressed. She kept to herself, made no friends that the feds are aware of and was constantly asking her contact when she could 'go home''

'Why did she do it?' Eyes switched back to Flack's father. 'Why agree to go into Witness Protection?'

'She was shown compelling evidence that unless Hemmingway believed that she was 'dead' not only her life was at risk but also her parents and Don's. Agent Foster told me that as soon as she saw that evidence she agreed to their plan.'

For the first time Flack Snr looked every one of his 65 years. 'She thought her parents and Don were at risk.' It was a statement; a moment of clarity. He sat down heavily on the couch as his eyes sought his son's. 'It's the only reason she would ever have left you.' His voice caught and his eyes dropped to stare at the floor.

'What else did Foster tell you?'

Flack's voice was oddly calm; his eyes steady as he turned his gaze from his father to Mac.

'Just under two years after entering the program someone took a shot at her as she left for work one morning. The local police investigated but couldn't find any witnesses or any evidence to say that it was anything other than a random shooting but two days later she disappeared and the feds haven't been able to find her since.'

Flack considered this for a moment before he nodded, still controlled, almost detached as he turned to face Stella. 'You said you had the DNA results. Is it Ellie's DNA on that envelope?'

Danny and Stella exchanged glances.

'Stella?' The frown on Mac's face was echoed in his voice.

Danny nodded towards Stella in silent encouragement. She took a deep breath.

'No…no it isn't.'

* * *

She shifted in her seat in an attempt to get comfortable, reflecting that the Toyota she now drove wasn't as comfortable as the Ford had been.

The Ford the curly haired woman had spotted.

The discomfort was a fitting reward for her carelessness; a reminder not to allow her emotions to get the better of her.

The street lights and those of the houses in the quiet suburban street refracted through the rain that continued to fall steadily; bouncing and sparkling in the pools of water lying on the road.

She had turned the wipers and the headlights off, not wanting to draw attention to herself; now she watched the house, its image distorted by the rain drops that slipped down the windscreen.

_His_ house.

The house she should have lived in; a family she should have been part of.

He'd taken that away from her. Now she was taking it away from him.

She hit the speed dial on her phone. It rang twice.

'Hey baby, it's me.'

'Me too, honey; I can't wait until I see you again too.'

'Plane lands around 11:30am, Monday.'

'I know baby, I miss you too, but this is nearly over now.'

'So how's our guest? Behaving herself?'

'Really…isn't she the feisty one? Still, not long now. Just be patient and don't do anything until I get there…you don't know how long I've been looking forward to this.'

'OK baby, I'll speak to you tomorrow.'

The call ended, she slipped the phone back into her pocket.

Now she just had to be patient.

Timing was, after all, everything.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** A quick thank you to **SallyJetson** for her help with this chapter. Sorry for the delay - work really is a pain in the proverbial. Thank you to everyone who is reading this fic, has placed it on alerts, made it a favourite or left a review!

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

* * *

'_No…no it isn't._'

Everyone waited for Stella to continue but for once it seemed she had nothing more to say.

The low hum from Mac's computer; the faint murmurings of people working in the lab across the hallway; the distant cacophony of the city; Flack was suddenly aware of each of these sounds.

'So who is it then?'

All eyes turned to look at him but he focussed on Danny, knowing Danny, unlike the Mac, Stella and his father, wouldn't soften anything; would tell him straight.

Danny's face twisted. 'Ellie appears to have a sister-'

'No, that's not possible.' His father was on his feet, 45 years of knowledge lending confidence to his voice. 'Declan and Maggie only had one child and that child was…_is,_ Ellie.'

'I don't think Danny is suggesting that Declan and _Maggie_ have another child just that Declan does.' His words were almost carelessly spoken, so intent was he in watching Danny's face, seeing the shadows deep within his eyes as his recent past collided with the present.

'Declan is a lot of things but he would never cheat on Maggie.' The confidence in his father's voice bought all eyes to him except Mac's who continued to stare at the report Stella had handed to him for a few moments more before he too looked up.

'Does Maggie Maguire have a sister?'

'Yes…Laura...Laura Maloney. They fell out-' His father stopped abruptly, his eyes momentarily losing focus as he slipped into the past then re-focussing to meet Mac's eyes again. Speaking more slowly now, he finished his explanation. 'They fell out 30 odd years ago. She moved and there hasn't been any contact since.'

'Did Declan date Laura?'

Silence. Then, reluctantly, 'Yes…Laura was…well, Laura and Maggie were poles apart. Laura…Laura always had a new boyfriend in tow. Before Declan met Maggie he dated her for a while. It wasn't serious but she introduced him to Maggie and that was that for Declan. Laura was furious. There was a falling out then Laura announced she was quitting New York for Las Vegas. It was the last anyone saw of her.' His father's eyes were fixed on Mac. 'Is that what the DNA is telling you? That whoever sealed that envelope is Declan and _Laura's_ daughter?'

'We can't be 100 percent certain without a sample from Laura but it is the most likely explanation for why there is a match to Declan and a partial match to Maggie.'

'So where does that leave us?' Flack's question bought all eyes back to him again. A sense of urgency was driving out the anger, the confusion and the hurt. He could hear a clock, ticking inside his head, counting down the time...

'We go and speak to Declan.' Mac was looking at his father. 'You'll come with us, sir? He'll listen if you're there.' A brief nod of his father's head and Mac's attention was back to Flack again..

'Don, you need to go through the contents of this booklet, there may be a clue to where Ellie is.' He nodded, relieved; he had no desire to see Declan and hear his accusations again. Mac handed the booklet to Danny. 'Get copies of the contents and get Hawkes and Lindsay to check the booklet for prints and DNA and also run a check on Laura Maloney and see if we can establish her daughters name and whereabouts. Stella, you'll come with us?'

A flurry of activity ensued. A brief hug from Stella with a whispered 'we'll find her', his fathers hand dropped onto his shoulder and a nod from Mac and they were gone.

'You OK?' Danny had paused at the door when he realised that Flack wasn't following him.

Their falling out over Danny's recent actions bothered Flack and he yielded to a sudden impulse to bridge the gap between them. 'I'm sorry for giving you such a hard time about Rikki Sandoval.'

Danny stepped back into the room and closed the door. 'Don't be. I deserved everything you said to me and more.'

'No-'

'Yes. I threw away the best thing that ever happened to me. It's killing me seeing how unhappy I've made Lindsay and knowing there isn't a damn thing I can do about it.'

'There's no chance she'll take you back?'

'No.' One syllable, filled with pain, followed by a silence that Flack couldn't think of a way to break. After a moment Danny spoke urgently.

'Look, we can do all of this after. We need to look at this and see if it tells us anything…see if there is a chance for you and Ellie.'

_A chance for you and Ellie._

The words ricocheted uncontrollably around his head. He didn't want to think about it; was terrified to think about it, but found he couldn't stop himself.

* * *

She sat up straighter as the black truck pulled to a halt in front of _his_ house and the silver ford that had been ahead of it pulled into the driveway next door.

Excitement coursed through her. This was it.

The rain had finally stopped and she chanced turning on the wipers to clear the windscreen to give herself a better a view.

A man and woman got out of the black truck, the woman's curly hair momentarily lifted by the breeze.

Her again. She looked at the man and realised he was the man who'd been in the cemetery.

She considered it for a moment and decided they were probably colleagues of her whiney ass sister's fiancée. They both had the look of the police about them.

An older man climbed out of the silver ford. She knew who he was; had recognised him when they had bumped into each other earlier. He had the same eyes as his son.

He walked back down the driveway and joined the man and the woman on the sidewalk before walking up the driveway to _his_ house and knocking on the door.

She sat forward as the door was opened by her father. A moment's conversation and then they all entered and the door closed.

She settled back in her seat, a satisfied smile on her face. She'd waited a long time for this; she could be patient a little longer.

* * *

Five pairs of eyes studied the blown up pages from the 'Order of Service' now adorning the evidence boards in the lab.

'I assume these are significant?' Flack could feel Hawkes gaze resting carefully on him but he couldn't turn his head; couldn't stop staring at the pages in front of him.

'These two poems,' Danny stepped up to the board and pointed, '_Remember_ and _A Love Song_ were read at Ellie's funeral.' Their eyes met and Flack felt a brief moment of surprise that Danny remembered.

'I've come across _Remember_, it a beautiful poem; I had to do an essay on the poems of Christina Rossetti in college, but I've never seen any poems by Vernon Scannell before.' Lindsay glanced at Flack, 'I take it they were favourites of Ellie's?'

He nodded, less interested in the two poems he recognised than in the one he didn't.

_Mornings I long for you;_

_evenings I dream of you;_

_memories are all I have._

_Promises we should have made_

_haunt me._

_In a state of grace,_

_suspended._

Unlike the other two poems there was no title and no name attached to it. He frowned. 'I've never seen this poem before.' He tore his eyes away looking at Hawkes and Lindsay. 'Does anyone recognise it?'

Both shook their head.

'It's not a published poem.' He turned to look at Adam who blushed as he felt four sets of eyes on him 'I…I used a database we have access to…it's not a published poem.' He cleared his throat awkwardly, blushing again. 'I don't know if it means anything…I mean it probably doesn't…it just seems a bit of a coincidence what with where the card was manufactured and sold-'

'_What_ might mean something?' Flack fisted his hands to keep from reaching out and shaking it out of Adam.

'Well…er…the first letters of each line…'

'Huh?' The desire to shake Adam increased but Flack turned his head to look at the poem again.

'They spell Memphis.' Hawkes took another step forward, reading the lines rapidly before swinging around to face Flack. 'Does that mean anything? Didn't Mac say she was last seen in Birmingham, Alabama?'

'Yes he did. It was four years ago…'

His voice trailed off and he stepped towards the board.

'_Christina_ Rossetti and Vernon _Scannell.'_ He turned to look at Danny who was looking confused. Yesterday morning…when you came to tell me about the Stevenson case-'

'Christ.' Comprehension dawned on Danny's face. 'The message from the principle of the school in Memphis about the missing teacher-'

Flack cut him off with out apology as hope surged through him for the first time. 'The teachers name was Christina Scannell. Its Ellie…it must be.'


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: **A quick thank you to everyone who has reviewed, placed this on alerts or made it a favourite:)

I hope you enjoy the next chapter, but a quick warning, there is some bad language as emotions run a little high!

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

Whoa, whoa…where are you going?' Danny inserted himself between a determined looking Flack and the door.

'To Ellie…to Memphis. Where the fuck else would I be going?' Flack attempted to side step Danny who put an arm out to stop him.

'We don't know she is there.' He held his hand up to stop the angry words about to spill from Flacks mouth. 'We don't know, Don. We suspect, nothing more, and you know the difference between evidence and supposition.' Ice sparked from Flack's eyes; Danny shot a quick look over Flack's shoulder at where Hawkes, Lindsay and Adam watched, hoping for some help.

'Messer, get the fuck out of my way-'

'The last flight to Memphis left over two hours ago.' Hawkes calmly spoken words stopped Flack in his tracks. 'But there is a US Airways flight out of Newark that leaves at 5am tomorrow and gets into Memphis around 8:30am. You can't get there any sooner.'

Flack's eyes closed, the tension draining from his body and he sat down abruptly on the edge of the evidence table. Danny threw Hawkes a look of thanks.

'I could contact the Shelby County Police Department…' Adam's voice trailed away as everyone's eyes turned to look at him. Flushing, he forced the words out. 'Memphis is the county seat of Shelby County so it's the Shelby County PD we need to contact. I mean…er…I'll um…I'll see if I can find out if a missing person's report has been filed…' He backed out of the room at speed without waiting for a response.

'You OK?' Danny frowned. Flacks head was down and he appeared to be taking a series of deep breaths. 'Don?'

'Yeah…yeah, I'm fine.' Flack straightened up, took his phone out of his pocket and began scrolling through numbers. Finding what he was looking for he pressed a key and then clamped the phone to his ear and moved off to the far end of the lab.

Danny watched, wondering who he could be phoning after 10pm at night. By the look on Flack's face he guessed that whoever it was wasn't there and that he was being forced to leave a message. Before he could do more than wonder, a familiar scent wrapped itself around his senses; his heart quickened and he turned quickly to see cautious concern in Lindsay's soft brown eyes as she stepped alongside him. She smiled tentatively. 'Are you OK?'

'No…not really.' Surprise registered briefly on her face at his admission. He dropped his voice. 'I can't believe Ellie might have been alive all this time but hasn't contacted Don. How could she do that?' His eyes switched to where Flack now stood, hands buried deep in his pockets, shoulders tense, as he stared sightlessly through the glass walls into the empty corridor.

'I don't know,' Lindsay hesitated before giving a helpless shrug, 'I really don't know, but there must be a reason, mustn't there? I mean, from what Mac's said it sounds as if she believed that Don and her parents would be at risk if she didn't leave.'

'But why not say something? Why not tell him? It's like she didn't trust him.'

'It was an extreme situation, Danny. How can anyone know how they will react to something as unexpected…as _unlikely_ as that until it happens to them?'

She spoke softly but he heard her words and the hurt she still struggled to hide and shame washed over him again.

'Lindsay-'

'I ran a DMV check.' Her voice brisk, her eyes shuttered; cutting him off before he could make another useless apology. 'A Tennessee licence was issued to a Christina Scannell a little under two years ago. I don't want to upset Don if it isn't Ellie…can you check the photo?'

He hesitated but she'd effortlessly resurrected the glass wall between them so he just nodded, closing his mind to the regrets and the desire to go back in time and do things differently. Instead he followed her across to the computer terminal and stared at the face on the screen.

The long chestnut hair that had always curled to just below her shoulders was now a few shades darker and shorter, and the face that he remembered as always being alight with a love of life looked lost and alone. He sighed, 'Yeah, that's Ellie.'

'OK, well I have an address for her; 5420 Cox Avenue.' A click and a map appeared. 'It's just off East Parkway, about 20 minutes from the airport.' He nodded, then turned as Hawkes appeared at his shoulder, a sheaf of paper clutched in his hand.

'It appears 'Christina Scannell' had a comprehensive 'history' including a degree, a post graduate degree and a teaching qualification.' Hawkes handed some pages to Danny who scanned them quickly as Hawkes kept talking. 'You know, the only time I've ever come across someone with as convincing and a well documented back story as this one is when it's been done through the US Marshall's office and the Witness Protection programme.'

'But according to Mac's source the feds lost track of her over four years ago.' Danny kept his voice down, glancing towards where Flack still stood with his back to them, staring into space.

'Yeah I know but I don't see how she has managed to get such convincing documentation without help, do you? Also, there is no record of any Christina Scannell until around two years ago so where was in the two years between leaving Birmingham and arriving in Memphis.'

Danny frowned. 'None of this is making much sense.'

Hawkes shrugged. 'I know. I'll keep digging and see what I can turn up, and I'll chase up that search on Laura Maloney, but that's not looking hopeful; at the moment we've got nothing on her or any child she may have had.'

'OK, I'll tell Don…shit.' Danny cursed savagely as he caught sight of the group stepping out of the elevator, and in particular the tall man walking stiffly alongside Mac.

'What's the problem?' Hawkes and Lindsay both swung around to see what had caught Danny's attention.

'Fucking great.' Flack appeared behind them, his face grim. Danny stepped in front of him.

'Go easy Don. I know he winds you up but think about finding Ellie; focus on that and ignore the crap, ok?'

'Who-' Hawkes question was cut off by Flack.

'Ellie's father; as far as he's concerned I'm the reason he lost his daughter.' Flack's eyes never wavered from the group that was approaching as he continued, 'Declan believes the only reason Ellie was still prepared to testify once Hemmingway started making threats was because I persuaded her. He thought she should withdraw her testimony; was convinced that the sick bastard intended to follow through and kill her.'

'For chrissakes Don, when did you ever manage to persuade Ellie to do anything she didn't want to do? When did anybody? It was _her_ decision; you know it was.'

'I could have stopped her.' Flack ignored Danny, his face darkening as he faced old demons. 'I knew more about the threats than she did; I'm a police officer for gods sake, but I was too wrapped up in 'what was right' and too damn sure that I could protect her.'

The door opened, effectively cutting off Flack's words, and Mac, Stella and Flack Snr walked in accompanied by Ellie's parents. Danny moved so he was between Flack and Declan, not wanting a repeat of Ellie's Wake when Declan's accusations, fuelled by too much whiskey and the emotion of the day, had been met by Flack's fist.

Before anyone could speak Adam erupted into the room, a phone clutched in his hand which he thrust towards Flack, his word tumbling rapidly from his mouth.

'It's for you…someone…she says she knows where Ellie is.'


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: **Apologies for the delay in posting this. A stomach bug that refused to go and way too much work is my excuse. Thank you to everyone who has left a review, made this a favourite or put this on alert, it is very much appreciated. In particular, my thanks to **LilyMoonlight **for the gentle nagging to get this chapter written and for **SallyJetson** for her never ending patience and words of wisdom.

Just a reminder that this is rated T!

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

Mac caught his arm before Flack could reach for the phone Adam had thrust towards him.

'What the-'

'Adam, is the phone on mute?' Mac spoke quietly. Flack paused, forcing himself to keep his arm at his side instead of pushing Mac away and ripping the phone from Adam's nervous grip.

Adam nodded frantically. 'Yes, and I've put a trace on it as well.'

Mac clapped a hand onto Adam's shoulder. 'Good work.' The younger man lit up at the words of praise. Mac turned to Flack. 'Take the call in my office. I'll pick up in here so we can all listen. That way,' his eyes flicked briefly to where Flack's father was visibly restraining Declan, 'there won't be any interruptions.'

Not trusting himself to speak, Flack nodded, took the phone from Adam and headed into Mac's office. The stillness and quiet of the room was a welcome relief after the tension in the lab and it felt good to be away from everyone; a momentary respite from the turmoil. He stared out of the window at the lights of the city below, took a deep breath and spoke as calmly as he could.

'Detective Flack.'

'_You want to know where Ellie Maguire is.'_

The voice was muffled but it was definitely female. He focused his eyes on the flashing red light at the top of a distant building and concentrated on breathing steadily.

'Who is this?'

'_Someone who can help you…for a price. Do you want to know where she is, or not?_'

No altruistic offer of help then. At least he knew what and who he was dealing with: someone who knew they had information he wanted and was happy to exploit the situation.

'How do I know that I can trust you?'

A contemptuous laugh. '_You don't_.'

'Then why should I listen to you?'

'_You can't afford not to_.'

She was laughing at him. His jaw tensed as he struggled to remain calm.

'Prove it.'

Hardly standard operating procedure for negotiating with someone like this but the angry words had slipped out before he could stop them.

'_Ellie Maguire. Living for the last two years as Christina Scannell and working as a sixth grade teacher at Campus School in Memphis. Reported missing by Julia Howard the schools principle on Monday this week when she failed to show up for school. You got engaged on Valentine's Day, 2002 and the wedding was booked for September 21__st__ 2002. She left New York under the Witness Protection Program because she believed that you and her parents would be killed if she didn't._'

Whatever she was using to muffle her voice couldn't hide the sadistic pleasure she was feeling. His stomach knotted as hope and fear collided.

'OK, so what do you want?'

'_I want money_.'

'How much?'

'_Ten thousand_.'

'Ten thousand?' It seemed too little to be asking. Fear coalesced into suspicion.

'_Yes. I want it delivered to me by her father_.' His gut twisted as his suspicions deepened.

'No, I'll-'

'_Don't fuck me about, Detective. The money is delivered to me by her father or you get nothing except a note of where you can go to collect her body_.'

A sudden memory of standing over a pale wooden coffin swamped him and he had to fight to hang onto his self control.

'Where are you?'

'_There's a flight to Memphis that leaves La Guardia at 11:20am tomorrow. Make sure he and whoever else decides to come along are on it. When they get to Memphis they need to go to the Best Western Inn at the airport and wait. I'll get a message to him but from then onwards he'd better be on his own_.'

Instincts screamed that this was a trap but he could feel she was ready to end the call and he had to know…

'Is she ok?' He made no attempt to hide his emotions; there was no point.

She laughed, enjoying her power. '_She's alive…for now_.'

A click and the phone went dead. He stood for a moment longer staring at the city lights, trying to steady his breathing as her words played over and over again in his head.

_She's alive…for now._

'Don?' Danny's face swam into view as Mac's office seemed to fill with people. With an effort he pulled himself back together and searched the room frantically for Hawkes. Catching his eye he said, 'What time did you say the first flight to Memphis was tomorrow?'

'5am from Newark, but-'

'I need to be on that flight-'

'_Don_'.

'What?' Irritation coursed through him as Mac caught hold of his arm.

'She wasn't calling from Memphis.'

He stared uncomprehendingly at Mac. 'So?'

'It came from a pre-paid cell and bounced off a tower in Queens.' Mac was obviously waiting for a response from him but he couldn't think of what to say. Mac stepped closer, his expression urgent. 'The call was made less than a mile from La Guardia…whoever that was, she's in New York.'

'And that's not the only thing.' Hawkes stepped forward and held up a piece of paper. 'I ran a check on flight manifests from Memphis to New York over the last week and last Sunday a Christina Scannell took a flight from Memphis to New York. As far as I can see, she hasn't flown anywhere else, certainly not from a New York airport.'

'So…what? You think Ellie is in New York? That it was her on the phone just then? That's she's not really in trouble? What, Mac? What is it you think?'

'I think we need to look at all the evidence before we go rushing off anywhere.'

They stared at each other, neither prepared to yield. He knew he trusted Mac, with his life if necessary, but right now he trusted his instincts more and they were screaming to him that he needed to get on that flight to Memphis.

'Can't hurt to fly down, can it? It's not like there won't be enough people left here to follow up, and if she's been living in Memphis for the last two years chances are there's something there that will give us a steer on things.'

'Us?' Mac regarded Danny intently.

'Yeah, us. Don and I can catch the 5am flight and Declan and whoever can catch the 11:20am flight – if Ellie is in Memphis we don't want to risk upsetting the control freak Don just spoke to by messing with their arrangements.'

Mac looked unhappy. 'OK, but the two of you need to tread carefully. Remember, you don't have any jurisdiction down there; you're private citizens, not even licensed to carry a gun.

* * *

_Sunlight drifted through the stained glass window sending multi coloured beams of light cascading to the floor around the tall figure waiting at the altar. Organ music filled the church; a sea of faces seemed to be staring at her, waiting._

_Her father held out his hand impatiently. 'Come on, we can't keep them all waiting.'_

'_But I'm not ready…I don't have my dress on yet.' She looked down at her jeans and t shirt and then back at her father. 'Why don't I have my dress on?'_

_He shook his head irritably. 'Too late…you're too late. If you'd just listened to me this would never have happened.' Then his face brightened as he smiled at someone over her shoulder. Turning she saw a veiled woman dressed in her wedding dress, walking towards her father, a bouquet of blood red gerberas clutched in her hand._

'_No…no, that's my dress…those are my flowers…this is my wedding.' She spoke to her father but her father wasn't listening to her. She tried to stop the woman in her dress as she glided by but she couldn't move. She tried to speak again but no words would come._

_Her father was smiling, tears appearing in his eyes as he took the arm of the woman in her dress. 'You look like a princess, my darling girl.'_

'_No…NO.' _

_She screamed and screamed but no-one was listening._

The slamming of a car door woke her from one nightmare and plunged her back into the living nightmare that engulfed her.

There was no light in the room and she had no idea what time it was, only that it was dark outside and the noise of the planes had lessened. Heart racing, she sat up, pulling the covers around her as heavy boots walked across rotting floorboards towards her, stopping as they reached the door to the room that had become her prison. A pause and then the sound of bolts being drawn back, and the door opened.

The light from the hallway cast her gaoler into shadow as he stood in the doorway; a carrier bag dangling from one arm. He raised it up, holding it out towards her. 'Food and water…if you remember your manners this time.' There was a click and then the light from a torch was shinning in her face. She closed her eyes against its brightness and heard him laugh again.

'That's a real shiner you've got there.' The torch clicked off and she opened her eyes. 'Still, I guess you know who's boss now, don't you, _princess_? And I'm betting two days without food will make you a bit more _amenable_.'

Two days ago she'd told him to go fuck himself when he'd told her she had to say 'thank you' for the food. He'd taken the food away and then knocked her across the room for good measure leaving her with only a litre of water and a black eye.

'Nothing to say? That makes a change. Well, if you want this,' he swung the bag slowly from side to side, 'you'd better be prepared to say 'thank you' nicely.'

She wanted to tell him to shove it up his ass, carrier bag and all, but she wanted to live too; wanted to cling to the hope that somehow she'd find a way out of this place or that someone would find her.

He walked into the room, closing the door behind him and her mind froze. He sat on the edge of the bed next to her, laughing as she pressed herself up against the wall and wrapped the thin, inadequate blankets more tightly around herself.

'So, do you want some food then?'

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

He laughed again and settled himself back against the wall next to her. 'In that case you need to get off the bed and onto your knees, _princess_.'


	15. Chapter 15

**AN:** Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and PM'd me to let me know their thoughts on this fic. Hope you enjoy the next chapter :)

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

The hardwood floors gleamed in the light thrown out by the expensive lamps sitting on an antique table. The visitor took all this in as he allowed his eyes to briefly sweep the hall he now stood in, momentarily amused as he reflected that the man standing in front of him, dressed in a paisley dressing gown and slippers, had clearly married well.

'Let me get this straight. You want me to allow two of my Detectives to head off to Memphis looking for a woman who supposedly died six years ago?' Brigham Sinclair made no attempt to hide his anger at being rousted from his bed at close to midnight, but did manage to keep his voice down in a vain attempt not to disturb his wife and children. A loud thump followed by the sound of footsteps and voices from upstairs suggested that his efforts were in vain.

He waited for a response from the man standing in his hallway. When he didn't get one he continued, 'And you expect me to intervene with the local police department and get them both temporary licences to carry a concealed weapon?'

'And Declan Maguire and me.'

'You are out of your mind if you think I'll agree to anything of the sort-'

'You'll do it, Brigham. You'll do it for a good man and a fine police officer who thought he'd lost his daughter and now has a chance to get her back. What would you do for _your _children, Brigham?'

Sinclair's eyes were drawn involuntarily to the picture of his wife and daughters sitting in a pool of light on the hall table. Thrown onto the back foot and feeling at a disadvantage dressed as he was in his nightwear he drew himself up to his full height as he made one last attempt to exert his control. 'I'm not happy about this. This is down to the Shelby County Police Department-'

'You'll do as I ask, Brigham, or you'll be conducting your own search…for what's left of your career.'

Sinclair froze, searching the eyes of the man standing across from him and seeing nothing to suggest he was bluffing.

'You wouldn't?'

'In a heartbeat.'

'You agreed-'

'Yes, I did, and I'll keep my word, _providing_ you help me now. No-one needs to know why you're doing it. Claim it comes from the goodness of your heart if you want, I don't give a fuck, but you'll make the calls and you'll make it happen otherwise you can kiss goodbye to all of this.' The man waved his hand contemptuously to indicate the house and its contents.

Sinclair gritted his teeth to keep from snarling, feeling his accustomed control starting to slip. 'I'll make the calls.'

'Good. I'll expect a call from you when it's been sorted.' The man's demeanour was of someone long used to having people do as he asked. Sinclair felt like a rookie again; a rookie who's career would have been over before it had begun if it weren't for the man standing in front of him.

'Do you think she's alive?'

Don Flack Snr paused, his hand on the door as he prepared to leave, and turned to face his old probationer again. 'Yes I do, but god alone knows what she has been through or the state she'll be in after all this time.' He turned the handle and opened the door. 'I'll wait to hear from you, Brigham.'

* * *

She knew that if she let herself think about this she'd change her mind. She also knew that she was probably making a mistake, but when no-one else had been looking at him, when the focus had been on Flack, she'd been watching his face and had seen how deeply this was all affecting him.

She knocked on the door, almost hoping he was asleep and wouldn't hear.

Footsteps and then a pause and then the door opened.

'Lindsay?' His smile lit up his face and for a moment banished the signs of the strain he was under.

'Don't get the wrong idea…I'm not here about us.' She blurted the words out quickly, not wanting to give him the wrong impression; feeling like an assassin as the shadows appeared in his eyes again and the hope lurking there died.

He stood back to let her into the apartment and then closed the door. 'So why are you here at,' he consulted his watch, '12:30am?'

'I…I thought you might want a ride to the airport later…' she stopped, angry with herself for the lie, and turned to face him. He had stayed by the door, leaning back against it, body tense, arms crossed, his face in shadow so she couldn't see his eyes. She took a deep breath. 'Everyone is focused on Flack but you lost her too…she was your friend.' She took a step towards him, her hand reaching out to him before she could stop it. 'You've lost too much recently, Danny. I wasn't there for you when you lost Reuben but I can be here for you now…if you want me to be…as a friend.'

She couldn't see the expression in his eyes but she could feel the intensity of his stare. He straightened up.

'As a friend?'

'If you want.'

He stepped into the light. 'I'd like that…I'd like that a lot.'

* * *

'I know that look…what's worrying you so much?'

Stella's softly spoken words pulled Mac from his reverie as he stared at the large display board in his office, covered with pictures and diagrams showing links between people and evidence. She stepped into his office.

'Is it Flack and Danny going to Memphis?'

Mac shrugged. 'Partly. They won't be armed-'

'They'll be fine, Mac.'

'I don't know…Don's all over the place. He shouldn't be the one to go, he's too emotionally involved-'

'And if it was Claire?'

Mac's face whitened and Stella wished she could take back the words.

'Mac, I'm sorry-'

'No…no, you're right. If it was Claire I wouldn't let anything or anyone stop me.' He sighed and sank on the couch and rested his head in his hands for a moment. Stella sat down next to him, close enough for him to know she was there, to feel the warmth from her, but not touching.

'This can't be easy for you.'

He sighed. 'If she is alive…if there is a chance for Don…I'll be happy for him, but…' he shrugged and met her eyes.

'You wish it was Claire we were trying to find.'

For a few moments they sat in silence, both staring at the board, both lost in thought, and then Mac stood up.

'Something doesn't add up in all of this.'

Stella stood up too, knowing this was Mac's way of dealing with his emotions and willing to do what she could to help him, and joined him at the board. 'What in particular?'

'On one hand we have a lot of evidence to suggest that whoever is doing this, most likely Ellie's half sister, is in New York, and that there is a chance that Ellie is here too.' He looked at her, waiting for her acknowledgement of his view. She nodded and he continued, 'On the other hand we have evidence that suggests Ellie may still be in Memphis, and now Declan is heading to Memphis, supposedly to receive information about where she is.'

Stella nodded again as she reviewed all they had learned that day in her mind. 'And that's worrying you?'

'It's like someone is playing a game with us…and ten thousand dollars? That's too small an amount to be asking for information like this.'

'So?'

'So I'm starting to wonder if the reason for getting Declan to Memphis isn't anything to do with the money or the information.'

'You think it's for another reason?'

'Yes…I'm just not sure what that reason is yet.' Mac ran his hands through his hair in frustration. 'We need the information on Laura Maloney's daughter. Without it we're running blind, and, I suspect, straight into a trap.'

* * *

'Hi it's me.'

'_Hi me.'_

'How is she?'

'_Not so full of herself.'_

'What did you do?'

'_Let's just say that she looks good on her knees.'_

'You didn't-'

'_Baby, you're the only woman I have eyes for, you know that. This was just a little fun. How are the plans going?'_

'Good…very good. He's getting on the plane tomorrow…well, later on today now I suppose.'

'_Really? You think he thinks he's actually going to get her back?'_

'I have no idea…but I'm looking forward to the look on his face when he realises what's really going on.'


	16. Chapter 16

Apologies for taking so long to update but things have been a little unpredicable of late. Thanks to **SallyJetson** for her comments and to **LilyMoonlight** for an idea she gave me.

**WARNING:** There is violence and swearing in this chapter. If you are of a nervous disposition you may like to give this one a miss.

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

* * *

Annette Johnson liked working the early morning flights best. For one thing there tended to be fewer children on board and that generally meant less noise and less chance of her having to clean a dirty bathroom mid-flight. For another, the majority of the passengers tended to be business people and the majority of them tended to be male. She'd met one husband and multiple boyfriends on early morning flights.

This morning's flight was no different from usual; the plane barely half full, no children and only a handful of women. Some of the passengers stood out; the man in 14A for instance. He had already complimented her on her 'beautiful smile' and 'lovely blonde hair' and she knew that by the time they had landed he would have slipped her his business card with a suggestive smile and a wink. He'd be out of luck. She preferred them to be rich, which he clearly wasn't, or a lot better looking.

The man in 4C had possibilities. He was flying first class, wore a custom made suit and Annette, who could spot a fake at a glance, had noticed a very expensive Rolex gracing his wrist. He'd made eye contact with her when she'd poured his coffee and held it just long enough to tell her that he liked what he saw. She ignored his wedding ring.

The two men in 8A and 8C had caught her eye as soon as they had walked on board; they'd caught the eye of her fellow flight attendant, Howard, too. One look at them was enough to tell Annette that Howard stood no chance; it was also enough to tell her that she wasn't bothered about their financial status. She'd attempted to make eye contact when she had served their drinks. The dark haired man in 8A had barely looked at her before he'd turned his head to stare out of the window again. The dish-water blond had smiled and thanked her but he too seemed lost in thought. Slightly disgruntled she'd withdrawn and tried not to notice the look of false sympathy Howard had sent her way.

She checked her makeup in the mirror she carried in her pocket. With less than 45 minutes until landing it was time to go and see if she could move things along with Mr 4C. She glanced down the plane to check all was well and that her efforts were unlikely to be interrupted by trifling requests from other passengers. Letting her eyes linger regretfully over Mr 8C she noticed that, after not saying a word to each other all flight, he and his travelling companion appeared to be arguing.

* * *

A dull roaring pierced the pain wracked void Ellie had slipped into, dragging her up through dense layers of fear; fragments of memories returning to form a fractured whole. Heart pounding in her chest, she opened her eyes.

'_Get off the bed and onto your knees, __princess.'_

The pale grey early morning light that struggled through the years of dirt coating the glass of the tiny window high above her head couldn't banish the shadows that hung in the room.

_Back pressed against cold stone. His hand moving towards her. Her head hitting the wall. Pain, dense and overwhelming, smothering her. _

Shivering uncontrollably as she burned inside, she tried to stop the images that spooled erratically through her mind.

_On the floor. His voice above her was a jumble of sounds. The toe of his boot in her ribs. Fresh shards of pain lancing through her body. The sounds finally connecting into words._

'_I said, get on your knees.'_

The roaring overhead returned. She sat up slowly, each movement producing a new, more intense level of pain; only vaguely aware that the low keening sound she could hear was coming from her own swollen, bloodied lips.

_His hand around her throat. Tight; tighter; tighter still. Struggling for breath as vision blurred. His laughter, echoing; adding to the pain._

She couldn't move her left hand. Discovering it hurt less to move her arm than her head she lifted it so that her hand was eye level; gazing at the sleeve of a stained, pale blue shirt that was wrapped tightly around the palm.

_On the bed. On her back. Legs pinned. Arms anchored above her head. Fear paralyzing muscles and thought. Unable to draw breath. His weight crushing her. Life distilled down to this moment._

The stain was dark and the material was stiff. She flexed her fingers slowly, scarcely noticing the pain the movement caused amidst the agony that cocooned her.

_Eyes closed as hot tears flowed over petrified cheeks. 'Are you scared, princess?' He might have been asking her about the weather._

Did she recognise the shirt? She tried to make the connection but it remained frustratingly out of reach.

_The sound of a phone. He'd cursed and rolled off her. Coughing and choking and desperately trying to draw air into tortured lungs. _

She unwrapped the fabric, staring uncomprehendingly at the deep, uneven gash that ran across the palm.

_The bed dipping as he sat down next to her. His hand beneath her clothing; stroking her breast. Eyes closed tighter as nausea welled up inside. Words whispered into her ear._

'_I've been looking forward to this, princess, I really have, but I have to go; duty calls. Still, I'll be back tomorrow, and before I go…'_

She looked down at the bed. There was blood on the covers; blood on the pillow.

_His mouth against hers. Her hands on his face; clawing and scratching. Eyes open; seeing only red._

At the end of the bed lay the remains of the pale blue shirt. She picked up a piece of it and wrapped it around the jagged, weeping wound.

'_Fucking bitch.' _

_She didn't see the blow, only felt it as stars exploded behind her eyes. _

She forced herself onto her feet and stumbled across to where a bottle of water sat on a low stone ledge. Something crunched underfoot.

_Curled on her side, eyes closed. His voice mocking her._

'_I'll leave you to imagine what's going to happen when I come back tomorrow. Sweet dreams, princess.'_

The roaring of another plane taking off shook the room.

_The door slammed; the lock fell into place; the room plunged into darkness. Body aching as she stripped off her jacket, sweater and pale blue shirt. Shivering uncontrollably as she dressed again. Ripping the shirt. Binding her hand._

She made it back to the bed. The water was cool, slipping easily over the raw agony of her throat. She tried to calm the terror that surged through her.

'_I'll leave you to imagine what's going to happen when I come back tomorrow._

Her brain wouldn't work; she couldn't figure out what to do. Realised, as she watched herself from a distance; that there was nothing she could do.

'_I've been looking forward to this, I really have.'_

Through the panic another memory began to surface; a sensation of pain; a noise. She fell to the floor on her hands and knees.

'_On your knees, princess.'_

Scouring the floor; searching frantically. For what? She wasn't sure.

'_I'll leave you to imagine what's going to happen when I come back tomorrow.'_

And then she found it.

* * *

'So what's the plan?'

From the moment he'd climbed into the car to go to the airport Flack had made it very clear that he didn't want to talk. Danny, with more than enough of his own thoughts to occupy him, had been content to leave him to his own devices but now, with only 45 minutes of the flight remaining, he needed to know what Flack intended to do once they landed in Memphis.

Flack sat slumped down in his seat, methodically twisting his empty pretzel packet into different shapes. 'I want to go and see Julia Howard. She's been working with Ellie for nearly two years, she reported her missing _and_ she called me. Ellie must have confided in her to some degree mustn't she? I mean, how else could she have known my name?'

'Yeah, I was wondering about that too. The only way I can see her having your name is if Ellie gave it to her and if she did then…' Danny let his voice trail off at the change in Flack's expression.

'You mean she must have known something might happen to her?' Danny wondered how long Flack had been torturing himself with that thought as Flack continued, 'But if she did, why didn't she contact _me_?' The pretzel packet ricocheted from Flack's fingers and hit the seat in front.

'I don't know. I was talking to Lindsay about it last night-'

'Yeah, what was the deal with her running us to the airport this morning?'

A good question and one Danny had no answer to. He raised his hand and touched his cheek where Lindsay had kissed him goodbye at the airport, turning it into a scratch as he realised what he was doing. She'd driven away without looking back. He knew; he'd stood and watched until she was out of sight, hoping to see her glance back at him in the rear view mirror.

'I don't know.' At the disbelieving look Flack gave him he held his hands up in protest. 'I really don't. She came by, said she wanted to help me; wanted us to be friends.'

'How the fuck do you do that, Messer?' Flack's face was set in angry lines as he finally turned his head and looked at Danny.

Irritation prickled Danny. 'What do you mean, 'how do I do that'? How do I do what?'

'How do you get a woman you screwed around on to want to be friends with you?' Contempt laced Flack's voice.

At the back of his mind Danny knew this was a reaction to all that Flack was going through and that he should bite his tongue and let this go, but he was tired and his mouth was working faster than his brain.

'Oh here we go, Saint fucking Don. You'd never screw around would you-' He broke off as realisation crashed over him. 'This isn't about me is it? This is about you. You think Ellie's going to think you've cheated on her, don't you?' Flack's face froze. Danny stared at him, horrified. 'Christ, Don, you thought she was _dead_.'

They'd been friends for years now, as close as brothers. He'd been there when Flack had lost Ellie, when he'd nearly died in the bomb blast, when he'd struggled with his conscience over handing Mac the evidence that had sent a fellow cop to jail. In all of those and many other situations Danny had never seen Flack so tormented, so uncertain of himself. If asked, Danny would have said he knew the man inside and out; that whatever happened he'd know what to do to help him, but this situation had Danny outside of his comfort zone. He took a deep breath and switched his gaze to the front of the plane as he tried to find the words to help his friend, half noticing the flight attendant leaning over and flirting madly with the guy in 4C, her fake tan, fake breasts and too white smile being used to their best effect.

'It feels like I have.'

'Huh?' Danny switched his attention back to his friend.

'It feels like I've cheated on Ellie.' Flack's eyes remained fixed on some point on the seat in front of him as he continued, 'I spent days wondering whether I should send Jess a Valentine's card.' Flack's eyes blazed with self loathing. 'A Valentine's card for fucks sake.'

'But you didn't, did you? You didn't send her a card and you haven't been on a date with her. In fact in the six years since Ellie…_left_ you've only dated a handful of times. Anyway,' Danny steeled himself for Flack's reaction and trusted that he was unlikely to punch him out on a plane, 'I doubt Ellie's been living like a nun.'

Flack moved violently in his seat, his hands becoming fists, both clenched so tightly the knuckles showed white and for a moment Danny thought his gamble had failed, but just as quickly the tension drained from away and Flack slumped back into his seat.

'Christ, Dan, I'm so fucked up over all of this. I've spent six years believing she was dead and now I find out she's alive. I should be happy. I should be fucking delirious, but instead I'm so fucking furious that I almost don't want to find her. I feel guilty that I've dated other women. I almost _want _her to have seen other men because it will ease my conscience, but I know it will kill me if she has. But most of all I'm tearing myself up inside at the thought of what will happen to her if I don't find her in time and that I could lose her all over again-' Breaking off abruptly Flack's jaw clamped shut and he turned his face to the window, his hands clenching and un-clenching spasmodically.

'We'll find her, Don.' The words sounded empty and meaningless but they were all Danny had to offer. Flack's head jerked once in acknowledgement but he kept his face turned away.

Feeling helpless, Danny sank back into his seat. For as long as they had known each other Flack had been the calm, logical, in control half of their double act; a balance to Danny's emotional, instinctive, act-first-think-later tendencies. This was the first time that Danny could remember where he had faced a potentially dangerous situation with a less than in control Flack; a feeling that unsettled him.

He watched, without seeing, the blond flight attendant accept a business card from the guy sitting in 4C and slip it into her pocket, as he replayed Mac's parting words.

'_Don's too emotional Danny; he's a loose cannon. If I could stop him from going I would but I can't so you have to keep an eye on him; hold him in check. Don't let him do anything that he'll end up regretting.'_

Closing his eyes, Danny prayed that he would be able to do as Mac had asked.


	17. Chapter 17

**AN:** Many thanks to **Lily Moonlight** for her encouragement and comments on this chapter, also thank you to everyone who has placed this on alert, made it a favourite or left a review!

* * *

**Chapter 16**

* * *

Continuous motion.

A never ending stream of faces; morphing one into the next in a fraction of a second. Compulsive watching for someone desperate to see the words MATCH CONFIRMED appear on the screen but Hawkes turned away, convinced that if he watched then no match would be found, whereas if he didn't…

Reaching for yet more coffee he wondered if it was exhaustion or the growing feeling of hopelessness that had filled his head with such a childish fancy

* * *

'I'm sure you are about to explain why the hell I've just received a call from the Assistant Director of the Witness Security Division telling me that I need to meet you at 7:30am on a Sunday morning?'

Barely controlled aggression oozed from Special Agent Scott Jones as he slid into the booth opposite Mac.

'Sure, right after you explain to me why the FBI believes that you have no idea where Ellie Maguire has been for the last four years.' Tired and pissed off, Mac was in no mood to play games.

'What the fuck are you talking about, Taylor?'

'Ellie Maguire. The FBI tell me she disappeared four years ago and that you have no idea where she is.' Leaning forward; a deliberate invasion of personal space, his eyes blazing. 'But I've seen the documents supporting her last identity as Christina Scannell and it's got the US Marshals service written all over it.'

His breakfast companion sat back abruptly, face wiped free of all expression. 'You don't seriously expect me to comment on that do you?'

The two men locked eyes in a silent struggle for control as a waitress, her orange hair showing an inch of dark roots, placed a mug in front of both of them which she then filled from a jug of fresh coffee. Impervious to the tension between the two men she cocked a hip.

'You gents wanting anything to eat? We've got a special on blueberry pancakes today.'

'No thank you.' Mac gaze didn't waiver. The waitress waited for a moment more before placing her free hand on her hip and staring belligerently at Scott Jones.

'What about you, Mr?'

Scott Jones broke eye contact with Mac and glared at the waitress as he yanked his badge out of his pocket and flipped it open. 'Fuck off. I'll let you know if we need anything else.'

The waitress looked unimpressed. 'Your badge don't give you no right to be rude, Mr. Bit of civility makes the world a nicer place for all of us. Now you gents both have a nice day,' she winked at Mac before looking back at Scott Jones, 'and you make sure you don't spill coffee on that cheap suit you're wearing, sugar. Gettin' it dry cleaned would cost 'bout as much as replacin' it.' Before Jones could reply she turned and headed off to the next booth.

Scott Jones scowled at Mac. 'You know I can't answer your questions, Taylor.'

'We think Ellie Maguire has been kidnapped and that her life is in danger.' Mac lent forward, his tone now urgent. 'I need to know where she's been and who from the U.S Marshal's service has been her contact. They could have information that might help us find her.'

Fingers tapped out a rapid tattoo as suspicious brown eyes stared at Mac. Mac pushed his cell phone across the table. 'Look, if you need to call up your boss and get his OK then do it, but you asked why you'd been told to meet me and this is why.'

The fingers stilled. 'OK, I'll admit, we didn't lose her but we made the FBI think we had.'

'Why?'

'We had evidence that someone within the FBI wanted her dead.' Jones ran his fingers agitatedly through his close cropped hair. 'We believe the shot that was fired at her in Birmingham was an attempt on her life. We moved her to Atlanta and changed her identity and then a couple of years ago we received information that suggested that she needed to be moved again. This time we re-located her to Memphis, but I don't know anything about a kidnapping or a threat against her.'

'You don't know-,' Mac broke off in disbelief, shaking his head. 'How the hell do you not know? She was reported missing to the Memphis PD a week ago.'

Scott Jones jaw dropped open. 'What the fuck are you talking about?' He reached for his phone and began scrolling for a number. 'There is no way we wouldn't know about this.' Finding the number he was looking for he pressed a button and held the phone to his ear.

'It's Jones, I need a status report on Christina Scannell.' A brief pause and then he exploded. 'What the fuck-'. His face flushed red. 'What do you mean you've only just found out?' Another pause as the colour of his face deepened alarmingly. 'I'm not interested in excuses. I want a full report on my desk within the next 30 minutes.'

Punching the button to end the call he stood up. 'I'll look into this. I'll call you later.'

Mac stood up too and placed himself between Jones and the door. 'I don't care about screw-ups in your processes, this isn't a witch hunt. What I need to know is the name of the agent who acted as her contact and a number to reach them on.' He waited until Jones looked him in the eyes again before continuing, infusing the urgency he felt into his tone.

'Speaking to them could make the difference between Ellie Maguire being found alive…or dead.'

* * *

There was no question that it was a family home. Everywhere was spotlessly clean but the furniture was well worn; scratches and nicks in the legs of the chairs and the sideboard that no amount of polishing could disguise. Stella found her eyes drawn to the photographs that decorated the room; the Flack family history shown in a gallery of smiling faces. She caught sight of a picture of a small, dark haired boy with big blue eyes and a dirty face and despite the circumstance she found herself smiling at this image of a much younger Don Flack.

'I'm sorry Detective Bonasera, I should have remembered this yesterday, but when you said Ellie might be alive….' Stella switched her gaze back to Maggie Maguire and the envelope she held out to her. The older woman tipped her head back, blinking furiously as she fought to stay in control.

Stella gently took the envelope from Maggie's shaking hand as Teresa Flack laid a comforting hand on her friends arm.

'Come on now, Maggie. With all that's going on it's a miracle you've remembered even now, never mind found it.' Her gaze caught Stella's. 'We would never have found it in this house. Four children and the tidiest of them was Donnie, and a husband who is the messiest of the lot. The children may have left home but I'm still finding things that I'd thought were lost years ago.'

This gentle attempt to raise a smile bought forth a half sob, half laugh from Maggie. Stella stayed silent; her eyes fixed in the envelope and the word '_Mags_' written in an untidy hand across the cheap paper, as Teresa produced a tissue for Maggie to use and then pressed a glass of water into her hand, all the time speaking soft words of comfort. Desperate to know what was written on the sheet of paper inside the envelope, Stella managed to wait until she was sure Maggie was calmer before she investigated further.

_Mags_

_I have cancer and the doctor tells me I'm dying. I need you and Declan to take Kitty for me. He's her father and you both owe me._

_Meet me tomorrow in the park on the bench where Declan and I used to meet. He can tell you which one if you don't know._

_You have to do this. If you don't then whatever happens to Kitty will be your fault._

_L._

Stella raised an eyebrow at the tone of the note and looked up at Maggie. 'You are certain this is from your sister?'

Maggie nodded. 'Yes I am. We weren't close, far from it. Laura was four years older than me and loved boys, dressing up and going to parties. I liked curling up in something comfortable and reading a good book.' Maggie bit her lip, her eyes sightless as she relived old and painful memories. 'It's not easy for me to tell you this, but my sister was a spiteful, vindictive, bare-faced liar. She was always convinced that people 'owed her', for what I'm not sure. When I got that letter I didn't recognise the handwriting so much as the tone. It's definitely from Laura.'

There was no date and no return address. Stella spoke slowly. 'Well, it was obviously hand delivered so we can assume that at some point Laura returned to New York. Do you remember when you received it?'

'2nd January 1978.' The response was so swift it took Stella by surprise.

'You remember the date so clearly?'

'I was pregnant with Ellie. I remember I found it when I got back from returning some Christmas lights to Declan's parents and I know I returned those on the day I'd taken them down.' Seeing Stella still looking surprised she continued. 'We always take our Christmas decorations down on the January 2nd. I don't know why, but we always do.'

Stella nodded, 'OK, well that's good. That means we know Laura was in New York in January 1978.' She frowned. 'How old would Kitty have been?'

'Declan and I worked it out that Laura would have been due around the middle of February 1974, that's if she went to term, so when the letter was sent she would have been around 3 years old.'

The brief hope that Kitty had been old enough to have been in school, with all the paperwork that would have required, was extinguished; still, Stella felt more confident of picking up Laura Maloney's trail now than she had a couple of hours ago. She smiled. 'What happened when you met her?'

Maggie shook her head, her eyes filling with tears again. 'I didn't meet her Detective, and I never heard from her again.'

* * *

Time dragged.

A pile of files from a dozen or more cases demanded his attention, but Mac couldn't summon the energy to pick them up, instead his eyes alternated between the phone and the clock, counting the minutes until he could phone Scott Jones and demand a name from him.

A tapping broke his reverie; he looked up to see Hawkes leaning wearily against the doorframe. At a wave of Mac's hand, Hawkes crossed to the desk and then slumped into the chair opposite Mac. He tossed a photograph onto the desk.

'I've been running the facial recognition software for hours and all I can tell you is this isn't Ellie Maguire.'

Mac sat forward, staring at the photograph the security team at La Guardia airport had forwarded of the woman who'd travelled to New York a week ago on a ticket in the name of Christina Scannell. He sighed, 'What have you run it against?'

'So far, anyone in the tri state or Tennessee with a criminal record or a driving licence.' Hawkes shrugged. Next up Alabama and Mississippi and then I'm not sure.'

'Ok, well-'

'Mac.'

Both men looked up to see Jess Angell hovering in the doorway. Mac forced a smile.

'Detective, how can I help you?'

Angell stepped up to the desk. 'Sorry to interrupt but I need the results from the trace collected in the Kapinsky case and I can't find Danny anywhere.'

Mac sighed. 'Well, you won't he's on his way to Memphis with Don.'

'Memphis?' Angell looked and sounded confused. 'What are they doing in…' her voice trailed off as she caught site of the photo lying between Mac and Hawkes. Looking even more confused she picked it up before staring accusingly at Mac.

'Why have you got a picture of Kate on your desk?'


	18. Chapter 18

**Authors Note: **Apologies for the delay in getting this chapter posted. Usual issues with real life getting in the way of important things like writing!

Thanks to **Lily Moonlight** for reading the chapter through and letting me have her thoughts; they helped enormously. Thanks also to **Sally Jetson** who gave me the gentle push I needed to get this chapter written.

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**Chapter 17**

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'Call this a missing persons investigation...'

Danny's left foot hit the accelerator hard as he realised he was in the wrong lane. Ignoring the sound of horns and the obscene gestures that accompanied his manoeuvre he glanced sideways at Flack and the thin manila folder he was studying.

'Anything in it that'll help us?'

'I spent longer looking for my sisters fucking cat.'

Danny decided to take that as a no, as Flack continued. 'They ran a background check that confirmed Christina Scannell was an assumed identity and decided on that evidence that she had just upped and moved on.' He slammed the file against the dashboard, swearing under his breath as the papers within it fell to the floor.

Spotting the turning he'd been looking for, Danny took the slip road onto the East Parkway. 'Is that it? They ran a background check? Who did they interview?'

Flack sat back up, the papers now a crumpled mess in his hands. 'The only person they spoke to was her school principle, Julia Howard, and that was only to take a statement when she reported Ellie missing.'

'What? That can't be right.' Danny swung his head to look at Flack, then swung it back again as the truck veered to the right, nearly side swiping a bus. Ignoring the accusing look from Flack he continued, 'You telling me they didn't speak to _anyone_?'

'No, just ran a background check, discovered Christina Scannell was an alias, and then marked the file as a gone away.'

'But…' Danny paused as he marshaled his thoughts and checked the name of the cross street, 'The initial report from Julia Howard…did that suggest she knew that 'Christina Scannell' wasn't who she appeared to be?'

Flack scanned the report again. 'No.' He frowned. 'So-'

'- how the hell did they jump from a missing persons report to assuming it was a gone away? Why are they so sure there is no foul play?' Danny finished for him as he spotted their turning and moved into the right turn lane.

Flack sat back in his seat. 'You know all of this is starting to feel a little…,' he gestured agitatedly with his hands. 'Some Memphis PD Detective meets us off the plane, hands us gun permits, guns and holsters along with Ellie's file and _then_ hands us the keys to his truck.' He turned sideways in his seat. 'Doesn't that seem a little strange to you?'

'Yup.' Danny was watching the cross signs, sure their turning was coming up. 'It does. Let's face it; if someone from Memphis showed up in New York and asked for a gun permit and an ongoing file we'd tell them where to go, yet this lot welcome us with open arms. Makes me fucking nervous…this is it.' He swung the wheel hard to the right sending the truck into a tire screeching turn.

Flack peeled himself off the door. 'You missed your calling, Messer. You should have taken up NASCAR.'

Danny pulled a face of mock horror. 'What? Opt for a glamorous life of money, women and fast cars over freezing my balls off at 3am as I wade through a load of shit and piss?'

For a moment a smile cracked Flack's face. 'Well, when you put it like that…'

Spotting the house number he was looking for Danny pulled up outside Julia Howard's address. From the corner of his eye he watched the smile fade from Flack's face and his jaw tense. He turned in his seat. 'You OK?'

Flack nodded but the long shaky breath he expelled told a different story. Danny ignored it, certain that the last thing Flack needed to hear were more useless words of sympathy. For a moment both men sat staring at the single storey, brick built house with its gleaming paintwork and carefully tended garden before Danny glanced at his watch. 'Come on. Hopefully she's up and not at church.'

They made their way up the drive before climbing the steps onto the porch, Flack slightly ahead, his hand extending towards the doorbell long before it was in reach.

The door was opened almost immediately by a woman in her late 40's dressed casually in jeans and a long sleeved dark green t shirt. Short, neatly cut, discretely streaked, blonde hair topped a face that whilst not pretty, was certainly attractive. Calm, intelligent, grey eyes looked them both over.

'Can I help you gentlemen?' Her accent was of a well educated southerner. She looked nothing like the principle of any school Danny had ever attended.

Flack's hand reached for his belt. 'Yes ma'am. I'm Det-' He broke off, his eyes closing for a moment as he took a deep breath, before he opened them again. He forced a smile as his hand changed direction and reached for his pocket instead. 'I'm Don Flack and this is Danny Messer. We're with the NYPD.' He extracted his badge and held it towards Julia Howard.

She studied it carefully for a moment before she looked up again, concern now showing on her face. She stood back. 'You'd better come in.'

The front door led immediately into a warm and inviting sitting room that in turn led into a dining room and beyond that Danny could see the kitchen. Hardwood floors and duck egg blue walls complemented tasteful antique furniture. The smell of furniture polish hung in the air.

Julia Howard hesitated, her brow creasing in a frown. 'You both look tired. Have you just arrived this morning?'

Flack remained silent, his hands balled into fists. Danny forced a polite smile onto his face. 'Yes ma'am; plane landed less than an hour ago.'

Her eyes dropped to study Flack's hands before she looked up and met Danny's eyes again. 'In that case come through to the kitchen. I'll put some coffee and eggs on whilst we talk.'

'Ms Howard, we don't have time-'

'Detective Flack, I know that multi-tasking is something men aren't good at, but even my husband can manage to eat and talk at the same time.'

Danny managed to turn his snort of laughter into a cough. Flack threw him a look that should have turned him to stone, but his face relaxed slightly and he bobbed his head in apology towards Julia Howard. 'Sorry…thank you, ma'am, that –'

She cut him off with a smile and a wave of her hand. 'Come through.' They followed her into the kitchen and took the seats she indicated at the counter. The smell of freshly brewed coffee was intoxicating.

Julia Howard set a mug in front of them as she reached for the pot. 'You'll have to help me out Detectives; all of this has left me very confused. Exactly how do you know Christina?'

Danny felt the hope he had been nursing, that Ellie would have confided her true identity to Julia Howard, fade and saw from the tension in Flack's face that he was feeling the same. With difficulty he kept quiet knowing that Flack had to handle this his own way.

Flack reached into jacket pocket, pulled out a photograph that Danny knew well, and placed it on the polished granite in front of Julia Howard. She picked it up and studied it for a moment before staring at both of them in turn and frowning. 'This looks to have been taken a while ago.'

'It was taken in early March, 2002. I can't remember the exact date but it was a Saturday night and it was at a party held in the house of Declan and Maggie Maguire.'

A look of irritation crossed Julia Howard's face. 'I've never heard of them.' She started cracking eggs into a bowl. 'Detective Flack, _all_ I know is a teacher whom I admire greatly and who I regard as a friend has gone missing and the Memphis police seemed convinced that she simply decided to move on. I called you because Christina listed you as her emergency contact as she has no family-.' She broke off as she noticed the look passing between Flack and Danny. Mouth stiffening she began to beat the eggs. 'Will one of you _please_ have the good manners to tell me what is going on?'

Eyes fixed on the photo, Flack turned it so that it was facing him, then looked back up at Julia Howard. 'Christina's real name is Ellie…Ellie Maguire, The picture is from our engagement party which was held at her parents house…parents that are still alive by the way.' She stared at him, her hand whirring faster and faster as she beat the eggs. He continued. 'On March 23rd, 2002 she left to go to a conference upstate. That evening, just before my shift finished, my father arrived at the precinct to tell me that Ellie had…had been killed in a car wreck.'

Julia Howards hand stopped abruptly. 'I don't understand…if she died in a car wreck then how is she Christina?'

Danny caught and understood the look Flack threw him. He sat forward. 'Ms Howard, Ellie had been involved in giving evidence at a trial shortly before all this happened. She'd received threats which had been investigated but which were considered to be harmless. What we didn't know was the FBI received further information that showed that the intention was not to kill Ellie but to kill Don and Ellie's parents instead so that Ellie would suffer their loss. The feds took the decision to stage an accident and place Ellie into the Witness Protection program until they could find out who was behind the threat.'

'What? I…' She looked wildly between Flack and Danny as a hand flew up to cover her mouth. 'I don't know what to say…' Her eyes filled with tears. She dashed them away impatiently but they returned again. 'And you didn't know she was alive…all this time?' She stared, horrified, at Flack.

Flack shook his head, opened his mouth and then closed it again and turned his head away. Danny spoke quickly, wanting to give him a moment to compose himself. 'Ms Howard, we need your help. Whatever the Memphis PD might think, we believe Ellie's being held against her will and is in real danger.'

A tear had escaped and was slowly trickling down Julia Howard's left cheek. She gestured helplessly. 'Whatever I can do to help you find Christina…I mean Ellie,' she swiped distractedly at the tear, 'but I don't know that I'll be much use.'

'It's often the smallest thing that can help us, Ms Howard.' Flack seemed to have composed himself again.

'In that case ask me anything you need to whilst I make these eggs.' Seeing the look on Flack's face she blinked back the last of her tears and gave him a fierce look in return. 'You won't get far looking for her if you don't eat, Detective.'

She turned to the hob and began to make the eggs as a smile ghosted across Flack's face. He took a sip of coffee before he asked, 'You filed the missing persons report on Wednesday morning. Was that the first time you realised something was wrong?'

Julia Howard's shoulders slumped slightly. 'Yes and no.' She met Flack's eyes, an apology in hers. 'We have been having some alterations made to the school. They've reached the point where the contractors couldn't work around the children and so we opted to close the school on Monday and Tuesday.' She bit her lip before continuing. 'Christina was one of the most conscientious teachers I've ever worked with, she was always in early and worked late and often at weekends too. I lost count of how many times I told her she should be out, having fun, meeting people, going on dates-'

She broke off as Flack flinched, her hand reaching out to him, hovering in mid-air as her face crumpled. 'I'm sorry, Detective.'

Flack shook his head. 'Don't be.' He took a deep breath and prompted, 'You were telling us why Wednesday wasn't the first time you thought something was wrong.'

Julia Howard didn't continue immediately. Instead she placed a plate of eggs front of them and then produced fresh toast that Danny hadn't even noticed her make. After re-filling their mugs with coffee, she filled a third mug and slid into the seat opposite them, hugging the coffee to her. Danny hadn't thought he was hungry but suddenly realised he was ravenous. He began to shovel eggs and toast into his mouth.

Julia Howard propped her elbows on the counter and watched them for a moment before she continued. 'I went into school on Saturday. There were several teachers in, including Christina. By lunchtime only she and I were left and I'd finished what I was doing and had plans to go and meet my husband. I said goodbye and left and that was the last time I saw her.'

Flack swallowed a mouthful of toast. 'How did she appear?'

'That's just it. Christina is always attentive, always calm, always positive, no matter what the situation, but on Friday, during a staff meeting, she was distracted and while I was saying goodbye to her on Saturday her phone rang and she jumped a mile. But when I asked if everything was OK she just apologised and said she thought she was coming down with a dose of flu and even though I didn't believe her I didn't push.'

Silence fell for a moment then Julia Howard took a sip of coffee and continued. 'I didn't go into school on Sunday but I popped in on Monday and Tuesday but I didn't see Christina and _that's_ when I first started to feel something was wrong. She'd told me that she wanted to get a lot of preparation work done for a science exhibition we are planning for next month and that the two days without the children in the school were a godsend in that respect.' She met Flack's eyes again as she continued in a voice barely above a whisper. 'I was worried…I even went to her house but her car was gone and no-one was at home and I…god forgive me…I thought that maybe she'd met someone…that she…'

Flack hands clenched tightly into fists, but when he spoke his voice was calm. 'So, when she didn't come into school on Wednesday?'

'I knew something was wrong then.' Julia Howard stood up and began to clear their plates. 'There is no way that Christina would miss work without calling me and letting me know she wouldn't be in. As soon as it turned 8am and she hadn't arrived and hadn't called I knew something had happened to her.'

Flack nodded. Danny watched as emotions, too fleeting to name, chased themselves across his friend's eyes before he turned his head away again. He swallowed hard. 'Ms Howard, was there anyone who had started hanging around Ellie recently? Anyone who had asked her out and was maybe not happy that she said no?'

Julia Howard sighed. 'Detective Messer, I don't have to tell you what a beautiful girl Christina…Ellie…is but she went out of her way to avoid any sort of romantic entanglement. The one time I asked her about why she didn't date she changed the subject. I didn't ask again…' She paused, a thoughtful look appearing on her face. 'There was one man…but it was over a year ago now.'

'Tell us anyway.' From the corner of his eye he saw Flack stiffen.

'Well, Chris…Ellie organised a trip to the police headquarters for her grade 6 class as part of their social studies program. She liaised with Jackson Davis, a member of the Chief of Police's staff and I know that after the visit he asked her out. When she said no he continued asking and sending her flowers until it bordered on harassment. In the end I contacted the Chief of Police and then it stopped-'

Flack's phone sprang into life cutting off her words. Flack stood up. 'Sorry, I need to take this.' He moved off into the dining room but not before Danny heard him greet Mac as the caller. He switched his attention back to Julia Howard.

'Did she have any female friends?'

'She got on well with all the staff, male and female, she just didn't socialise much outside work.' Julia Howard frowned again. 'That said I did see her one time when I was out grocery shopping. She was with a woman and they obviously knew each other well.'

Danny felt a stirring of interest. 'Why do you say that?'

'Well, I spotted Christina in the car park. She and a woman were loading her car while I was waiting for someone to back out of a space. They finished unloading the trolley, the other woman took it to the trolley park and then she came back, reached into one of the bags and took something out. They were both laughing at whatever it was then they got into the car and left.' She shrugged. 'All I can tell you is that Christina looked very relaxed in her company.'

All the time Julia Howard had been speaking Danny had been aware of Flack's voice rising and falling as he grew increasingly agitated at whatever Mac was telling him. Now he was silent and Danny was itching to know what had been said but he also wanted to know more about this woman that Ellie appeared to be so comfortable with. He smiled encouragingly at Julia Howard. 'Can you describe her?'

'Similar height and age to Christina…I remember her hair was blonde but that's about all-'

She broke off as Flack appeared again, his phone in his hand. He thrust it towards Julia Howard. 'Do you recognise this woman?'

She stared at it for a moment before looking at Danny. 'That's her. That's the woman in the car park.'

Flack looked confused. 'So you do recognise her?'

Danny craned his neck to look at the picture. 'Ms Howard was telling me about one time she saw Ellie grocery shopping.' He looked up at Don, feeling his limbs turn leaden as he saw the horror on Flack's face. 'Why? Who is she?'

'Her name is Kate Robertson…she's Laura's daughter; Ellie's half sister. She was at the academy with Jess and she's just walked into my parents house and taken Stella and Maggie hostage.'


	19. Chapter 19

**Authors Note:** Many apologies for the delay in posting. I've had a nightmare of a work schedule and then, just as things were getting under control, I fell ill with something nasty followed by my son catching the same bug!

I owe a lot of people a lot of reviews and I promise I will catch up as soon as Christmas is out of the way. In the meantime here is the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it :)

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**Chapter 18**

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'Taylor.'

Mac gritted his teeth and took a deep breath before turning to see Chief Sinclair striding towards him, scattering uniformed officers and EMTs in his wake. He raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement. 'Chief.'

'What the hell is going on here?'

'Maggie Maguire and…' a hesitation, no more than a fraction of a second, before he continued, 'Detective Bonasera have been taken hostage by Special Agent Kate Robertson from the US Marshall's office.' Over Sinclair's shoulder he watched as a car screeched to a halt and Special Agent Scott Jones got out. He switched his eyes back to Sinclair and started to speak rapidly. 'We need to keep control of this scene; Flack and Danny are in Memphis and have a lead on Ellie Maguire's whereabouts but I'm certain this is all connected –'

He broke off as Scott Jones joined them. Jones's eyes swept over Mac dismissively and ignored Sinclair altogether. 'OK, we've got it from here, Taylor. I've got SWAT on their way.' He glanced back at the Agents who had followed him, 'Someone get me a floor plan of the house and start drawing up-'

Hot angry words bubbled on Mac's tongue but Sinclair beat him to the punch as he found a target for his ire. 'Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?'

Mac waved a hand towards a red faced Scott Jones. 'This is Special Agent Scott Jones, the US Marshall agent in charge of Ellie Maguire's case…the one who had no idea she was missing until a couple of hours ago.' He noted with grim satisfaction the fury in Scott Jones's eyes as the barb hit home. He indicated towards Sinclair. 'This is Chief of Detectives Sinclair.'

Sinclair drew himself up to his full height. 'This is an NYPD scene, Agent Jones. You are welcome to remain but you stay out of Detective Taylor's way and you had damn well better stay out of mine. Do I make myself understood?'

Sinclair turned back to face Mac before a now crimson faced Scott Jones could reply. 'It's your scene, Taylor. Anything you need you've got.'

Mac nodded, too focused on the task in hand to take even a moment more to glory in the humiliation of Scott Jones. He switched his eyes to the Flacks house as he prepared to fire out a list of orders wishing above all else he could see through the shutters that covered the windows.

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The oppressive silence in the room was punctuated by the sounds of intense activity coming from outside and a series of staccato bleeps as the stony faced woman with the Glock 22 in her hand punched another text message into her cell phone.

Stella wished she could see Maggie but they sat back to back on dining room chairs, hands bound behind their backs and with the threat of a gag or worse if either spoke. Stella was under no doubt that Kate Robertson would follow through on her threat so she remained silent, forcing herself to process all that she knew; looking for anything that might provide her with a way of getting them all out of here in one piece.

Kate Robertson hadn't been expecting her to be here: Stella had noticed the shock and then the fury on her face when she'd set eyes on her and it had been that moment's hesitation that had given Teresa Flack the time she'd needed to slip out of the back door and raise the alarm. It was also the moment that should have given Stella the time she needed to take control of the situation but the gun digging into the side of Maggie Maguire had stopped her in her tracks.

The staccato beeps of the texting stopped. Stella watched intently as Kate continued to pace agitatedly up and down, her lips compressed into a thin, colourless line. She'd closed the blinds as soon as she'd arrived turning the bright winter sunlight into a sepia gloom but even in the half light her face looked grey and pinched.

The phone vibrated in Kate's hand as yet another text arrived but reading this one bought a grim smile to her face that sent shivers running through Stella. Ignoring Stella she walked behind her and spoke to Maggie in a voice that dripped with suppressed rage and ill concealed spite. 'Good news, Aunt Maggie. I'll have a picture of your little princess to show you soon; you know, prove she's still alive…for the moment anyway.'

The ragged intake of breath from Maggie was audible; Stella suddenly didn't care about the threat of a gag. 'There is no way you'll walk away from this-'

She stopped, gritting her teeth in an effort not to cry out as the gun barrel was pressed painfully against the back of her head.

'I think I told you to keep your fucking mouth closed, Detective. I don't intend to kill you but if you piss me off enough I'll happily pull the trigger.'

'Killing a cop is an almost automatic death sentence-' Maggie broke with a gasp of pain off as the gun was removed from Stella's head as suddenly as it arrived. The gasp was accompanied by laughter. It took Stella a moment to realise that it was Kate who was laughing.

'A death sentence…that's funny…you have no idea how funny that is.' The laughter stopped as quickly as it had appeared as Kate bent close to both of them, her voice dropping to a whisper. 'Now both of you shut the fuck up or I swear to god I'll take my chances with that death sentence.'

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The lobby of the Memphis Police Headquarters was busy. As Danny looked around trying to find someone who would be able to help them he spotted a familiar figure about to exit through the door into the car park in front of the building.

'Hey…hey, Detective, er,' for a moment his mind went blank before his memory suddenly kicked into gear, 'Detective Hart.'

The tall, slow moving figure of Detective Jeff Hart stopped and turned to face him, a friendly smile on his sun reddened face. 'Hey there; how you all doin'? Findin' your way around OK?'

Flack was bouncing on the balls of his feet next to him, impatience coming off him in waves. Danny shot him a warning look before flashing a wide smile at Detective Hart. 'Yeah, thanks for leaving a map in the truck.'

Detective Hart's smile widened. 'Well we don't often get folks from New York paying us a visit here in Memphis and we wouldn't want you all gettin' lost now.' He glanced at Flack and then back to Danny. 'You needin' to see someone here?'

'Jackson Davis. You know where we can find him?'

A look of surprise crossed Detective Hart's face at the impatience of Flack's tone. Danny scowled at Flack before flashing another smile at Detective Hart. 'We really need to see Jackson Davis. Can you tell us where we'll find him?'

'I can do better than that. I'll just get you both passes and then I'll take you right up.'

'That'd be great, thanks.'

Detective Hart smiled and ambled over to the reception desk. Danny turned to Flack and lowered his voice. 'Look, I get that you're worried but if we can keep the locals on side we're going to be in a much better position to find Ellie.'

Flack met his gaze for a moment before his eye's slid away to where Detective Hart was slowly filling in a visitors log and chatting to the receptionist. 'You reckon that idiot can help us? He was the lead Detective on Ellie's case-'

'In which case we can ask him why it was marked as a 'gone away.' Danny spoke firmly, cutting off what he sensed was likely to turn into an increasingly loud tirade of abuse from Flack. As Detective Hart picked up the badges from the reception desk he hissed, 'Let me handle this.' He was rewarded with a disgusted look but at least Flack didn't argue the point.

The large slow moving figure of Detective Hart returned clutching visitors passes in a hand the size of a small shovel. He passed them to Flack and Danny before indicating towards the bank of elevators and a car that stood empty, its doors open.

Once inside he pushed the button for the top floor before leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed, a friendly smile still fixed to his face. 'So what do you all think of-'

'Why was the file on Ellie…Christina Scannell marked as a 'gone away?' Flack interrupted Detective Hart impatiently.

The friendly smile never wavered from Detective Hart's face. 'I guess because that's what the US Marshall's service told us to do, Detective.'

Danny and Flack stared at each other for a moment before Flack turned back to Detective Hart. 'The US Marshall's service told you to mark it as a 'gone away'?'

Detective Hart straightened up and Danny was suddenly aware of just how big he was; topping Flack by two inches and at least 50lbs of muscle. The smile had gone from his face but he didn't look angry, just worried. 'Sure. I mean we were concerned when she was reported missing, didn't seem the type to just take off, but I got a call from an Agent Scott Jones of the US Marshall's office and he told me to mark it as a 'gone away'. My Captain told me the same thing so that's what I did.' He shuffled his feet and dropped his gaze for a second before meeting Danny's eyes again. 'Look, I shouldn't have told you this but you seem real concerned about her and I don't want you fussing and worrying for no reason. Agent Jones promised me she was safe.'

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Danny used his foot to stop them closing again. 'Did he say anything else…like where she was?' From the corner of his eye he could see Flack was in no condition to ask any questions.

Detective Hart shrugged as he kept his voice low. 'Not exactly but he did say something about hoping she hadn't got too used to southern winters and had some warm clothes with her.' He nodded past them towards a woman sat at a desk in the lobby and raised his voice again. 'Now that's Ms Betsy Myres. She's the lady who'll be able to find Jackson for you.'

The doors closed on Detective Hart. Danny looked at Flack. You think Mac was right? That Ellie is still in New York?'

Flack's eyes closed and his head tipped back as he rubbed his hands vigorously over his face before his eyes opened again and his hands dropped to his sides. 'No…I think Ellie is here. I can't tell you why but I just know she is.' His expression was fierce.

Danny nodded slowly. 'OK, so let's go see Jackson Davis and see what he has to say.'

He followed Flack to the desk where Betsy Myres awaited them, hoping against hope that Flack was right but resolved to call Mac at the first opportunity.


	20. Chapter 20

Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - I apologise if I didn't manage to send replies to everyone but I really do appreciate you taking the time to let me know your thoughts.

A special thank you to **notesofwimsey** for her help with this chapter.

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**Chapter 19**

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'Guys, I've got something.'

Hawkes jerked his head upright and saw Lindsay do the same at the urgent note in Adam's voice. Adam continued before Hawkes could get a word out.

'I've run Kate Robertson's phone records, credit cards and bank transactions-

'You got the phone company to cough up the details of that pre-paid cell?' Hawkes was astounded, knowing that these records always took far longer to obtain than any other, but Adam shook his head impatiently.

'No, not yet although we should have them inside the next 30 minutes…but she has a cell provided by the US Marshall's service and one of her own on a contract and I looked at those. There were a couple of numbers that stood out. One is registered to the Memphis PD and I'm still waiting to hear who it is assigned to, but _this_ one,' he placed the phone records in front of Hawkes and pointed to one of the highlighted numbers, 'I've already checked out and it belongs to a Doctor's office.'

Before Hawkes or Lindsay could say anything Adam had sat down and was typing furiously at the Lindsay's computer terminal as he continued.

'I rang but obviously they won't release their records so I..er…well…' casting an apprehensive look at Hawkes he pushed back the chair to display the screen in front of him.

'You hacked their system.' Hawkes was outraged.

'Well done, Adam.'

Lindsay showed no sign of doubt over Adam's actions and he coloured at her praise as he continued to gaze apprehensively at Hawkes 'I know I shouldn't…' his voice got stronger and a stubborn determination wiped the doubt away as he continued, 'but she's got _Stella_.'

Hawkes hesitated a moment then inclined his head stiffly. 'So what have you found that's got you so excited?'

Adam pointed to the screen as Lindsay, a frown on her face, started to read slowly through the medical jargon and shorthand. Hawkes moved so he could read over her shoulder. He quickly assimilated the information there, letting out a low whistle as he reached the end.

'OK…' he met Adam's eyes, wondering about the concern he could see there, 'but…' his voice trailed away as he suddenly understood.

'_Fuck_.' Hawkes swore loudly as he grabbed his cell and hit the speed dial for Mac. His eyes met Lindsay's and saw she too had understood the implications of what they had just read. 'This is _not_ good.'

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'Enough of the bullshit.' Scott Jones flinched as Mac's palm slammed against the wall next to his head. 'Start talking and make it good because from the evidence that I have so far you are up to your fucking neck in this.'

Jones's face flushed a dark, angry red and he squared his shoulders aggressively. 'Get out of my face Taylor-'

'Why did you tell Detective Hart that he should stop looking for Christina Scannell?'

'What? Who the fuck is Detective Hart?'

The shock on Scott Jones's face was mirrored in his voice and stopped Mac in his tracks. He straightened up, a hand running distractedly through his hair as his brain began to whirl. Scott Jones's scowl deepened.

'I've had enough of this crap-'

Mac cut across him impatiently. 'A Memphis PD Detective, Jeff Hart, claims that the only reason the Christina Scannell file was marked as a 'gone away' was on your orders and that you know where she is.' He scanned Scott Jones's face looking for any hint that the allegations were true; wishing he had time to do this properly, in an interrogation room with evidence to back him up, but knowing, uncomfortable as he was with the thought, that he was going to have rely solely on his gut instinct. He wished he had Flack with him because at that moment Mac was honest enough to admit he trusted Flack's gut instincts more than his own.

The expression on Scott Jones's face was comical in its disbelief, or would have been if Mac was at all inclined to laugh. 'No. No, no, no and no. I haven't spoken to anyone from the Memphis fucking PD and until this morning had no fucking idea Ellie Maguire was missing. If you think I had something to do with this-'

'I don't.' The words were out of his mouth before Mac could think about them; before he could start to doubt himself. He frowned as some of the disjointed pieces of this puzzle started slotting into place in his head. 'Was Kate Robertson the agent in charge of Ellie Maguire's case?'

Scott Jones hesitated and then curtly inclined his head in acknowledgement. 'Yes.'

'Did you know she was in New York?'

'Yes; she and I needed to meet and she asked for it to be tacked onto some vacation she was due.' Jones still sounded unhappy about providing Mac with any information.

'Why was she given the assignment? Surely it's against protocol to have a relative of the protectee assigned to the case?'

The pole axed expression on Scott Jones's face and the mouth that opened and closed without a sound emerging gave Mac another piece of the jigsaw and strengthened his belief that Jones wasn't involved in Ellie's disappearance, but he still wished he had Flack with him…or Stella. He gazed past Jones's head at the Flack's house, oddly silent and still amidst the chaos surrounding it but before he could say any more his phone rang. He glanced at the display before he answered.

'Yeah, Hawkes, what have you got?'

And listened in growing horror to the information Hawkes relayed.

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'It was you in Don's apartment, wasn't it?' Stella tensed, waiting for the gun to be driven into the side of her head as she continued. 'You sent the card, put the flowers on Ellie's grave, followed us in the car and sent that order of service. Why? Why bring Don into this? '

'Because I was sick to _death_ of hearing about how fucking wonderful he was; about how much she loved him; how much she missed him.' Kate shook her head, her mouth curled into a sneer as she met Stella's eyes. 'I read her journal. Do you know the silly cow spent hours on line reading anything she could about him?' The sneer became a malicious grin at the whimper that escaped Maggie.

'So the idea was to plant the thought in Don's mind that Ellie could be alive and then have him tell Maggie and Declan?' Stella spoke quickly, wanting to keep Kate's attention focused on her.

Kate hesitated, and Stella guessed she was torn between a desire to further torture Maggie and a need to explain; to show how clever she had been. To Stella's relief the need to talk won.

'Very clever, Detective; of course the information in Ellie's monumentally tedious journals made the task all the easier – lots of buttons to push to screw with his mind, although he took longer to crack than I thought. Of course once I realised that the 'Don' Ellie was obsessed with was the same 'Don' that Jess Angell was talking about I knew it would be a little easier. Jess is rather smitten so it was easy to find out when they were going to be on the same shifts so I would know his apartment would be empty…and when it wouldn't be.'

Kate paused, the gloating smile still hovering around her lips although her eyes remained flat and cold.

'Why?' The word was ripped from Maggie.

In an instant the smile vanished from Kate's face. 'Why? _Why_?' Her voice rose, a hysterical note creeping in. 'Because you left me with that bastard after my mother died'. Her face twisted into a snarl. 'A good day was when he just called me names. Most days he used his fists, and once I reached 14 he raped me more days than not.'

Her mind stalling with the shock of Kate's words, Stella heard a sob escape from Maggie. Kate strode around to face her aunt. 'Don't give me your false sympathy you two faced bitch. You had a choice…you could have taken me to live with you but you didn't-'

'You don't understand-'

The sound of Kate's hand connecting with Maggie's face ended her aunt's impassioned plea.

'They tried to help-' Stella's desperate attempt to aid Maggie in her explanation ended as she bit down hard to stop the cry of pain escaping as the gun barrel connected with her skull.

'Shut up, SHUT UP…both of you. One more word and I swear to god you'll regret it.' The composure of earlier had gone and the steady hand Kate had displayed so far was replaced with one that trembled as her finger crept closer to the trigger.

Everything in the room went still. One lone shard of sunlight crept around the blinds and pierced the space between Kate and the two women she held captive. Time seemed to hang, shimmering in the air, paralysing all in the room as they waited…

The beeping of Kate's phone broke the spell and Stella jumped as her overly sensitised nerves reacted to the sound. She chanced twisting her head around to look at Kate. She had an oddly satisfied look on her face as she stared at the information showing on the screen. The flat green eyes met Stella's and Kate's mouth twisted into a mocking smile. She spoke so softly Stella could barely hear her.

'Well, well, well…I guess its time for a little show and tell.'

.

* * *

.

Flack sat with his head back and his eyes closed, allowing the sway of the car and the drone of the engine to lull his frayed nerves as Danny drove them away from the Memphis Police Department headquarters. He could hear Danny was talking on his cell to Mac but the words washed over him, making no sense, as the pain continued to twist and turn within him.

He'd failed her; he'd let her down. She'd given up her life, everything she held dear, to protect him and instead of realising, instead of somehow knowing she was alive, instead of saving her, he'd taken her sacrifice and simply continued with his life leaving her alone and vulnerable.

The guilt and shame swamped him, drowning out the conflicting emotion, the one he knew would be back soon to push away the guilt in its turn; that of an all consuming rage.

She'd not trusted him. She'd left rather than give him a chance to help her – preferred to put her faith in the feds than in him. She'd left him alone to his grief and pain; she'd never contacted him, not once, not even when he'd been clinging to life by a thread. How could he believe that she loved him as much as he loved her if she'd done all of this?

He moved restlessly in his seat, forcing himself to think of practicalities, although they were of little comfort now they knew the only lead they had, Jackson Davis, was out of the running, having just returned from two weeks honeymoon in Tahiti. Flack had remained silent during the meeting, his fists clenched and stuffed in his pockets for fear that if he took them out he'd use them to half kill the smooth talking bastard for showing so little concern for Ellie's wellbeing.

The ringing of his phone roused him; glancing down he saw it was Lindsay.

'Flack'

'_Hi Don, it's Lindsay; I'm sorry to ring you but Danny's phone is engaged.'_

'Hang on.' Ordinarily they would have chatted while he waited for Danny to finish up but nothing was ordinary at the moment and the thought of small talk made his brain ache He glanced at Danny and mouthed 'Lindsay' as he pointed to his cell. Danny nodded briefly as he spoke into his phone.

'OK, thanks for the update; call us after you've made contact will you?' A pause as he listened to Mac again and then, 'Sure, bye.'

He disconnected the call and accepted Flack's cell phone. His face was serious and Flack sat up straight, his lethargy disappearing as impatience to know what they had been talking about took over.

'Lindsay.'

They had reached traffic lights and Danny stopped as he listened to Lindsay, saying nothing but Flack's attention was caught by the expression on his face; a mixture of disbelief, rage and grim determination were present and Flack felt cold fear, or was it excitement, trickle down his spine, suddenly certain that whatever Lindsay was telling Danny was important.

The lights changed but Danny didn't move, prompting a volley of horns and revving engines behind them. Flack opened his mouth to speak but Danny had realised now and floored the accelerator so they just managed to get through the junction as the lights changed again. Once they reached the other side Danny swung the car right into a side street and parked up as he continued to listen to Lindsay.

Flack fought his rising temper to stay silent as impatience to know what was being said consumed him.

'OK.' Danny was watching Flacks face as if he was worried about the response Flack was about to have to the news he had just learned. He was silent a moment longer and now he had killed the engine Flack could hear the faint sound of Lindsay speaking again.

Frustration boiled inside of him. Opening his mouth to demand that Danny put the phone down and talk to him he shut it again as Danny spoke.

'OK, send the details through and we'll get over there now. From what you've said we are less than 5 minutes away. Gotta go.' His voice softened and dropped slightly as he turned his head away from Flack for a moment. 'Thanks and I'll speak to you later, yeah?'

He cut off the call and turned to face Flack.

'Well?' Flack fought to keep his frustration under control but he could see Danny knew how he was feeling.

'Adam ran Kate Robertson's phone records. There were a couple of numbers that stood out, one of which they have investigated and I'll tell you about later because there is fuck all we can do about it-'

Irritation boiled over in Flack. 'I'm not a fucking child, Messer. Where the hell do you get off telling me what I can and can't know?'

Danny ignored him. 'The second number was registered to a member of the Memphis PD Detective Division. Want a guess at who it is registered to?'

The anger faded as Flack stared at Danny. 'Not Jeff Hart?'

Danny nodded grimly. 'Got it in one…and get this; Adam got the records from the prepaid cell that called you last night too. It's made multiple texts to Jeff Hart's phone, all received since Kate Robertson took Stella and Maggie hostage. He's accessed them and…'

The words seem to stick in Danny's throat but Flack didn't need to hear them to know what he had been about to say. He spoke slowly, his eyes never leaving Danny's face.

'Jeff Hart has Ellie.'


	21. Chapter 21

Thank you to **SallyJetson**, **notesofwimsey** and **lilymoonlight** for their help with this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 20**

Captain Griffin Coombes wore the look of a frustrated man. Used to having control of a hostage situation, he had been ordered, by Chief Sinclair no less, to defer to Mac Taylor from the Crime Lab. Now, instead of giving the orders, Coombes was left pacing up and down, waiting for Mac Taylor to finish a phone call so he could find out what the hell he was supposed to be doing.

The initial frantic activity outside the Flack's house had ceased, replaced with a tense, ordered calm. The other residents of the street had been evacuated and the Fire Department, EMTs and his own SWAT team were all in position ready for them to begin the negotiations but so far Mac Taylor had refused to initiate any contact and a redundant Coombes was feeling, as his son loved to say, 'as much use as a chocolate tea pot.' That thought bought a slight smile to his face and then a frown – his son was playing football today and he could have been there to see him play. Instead he was here, waiting for some crazy scientist to decide how to handle a delicate hostage negotiation.

'Captain Coombes.'

He turned to see Chief Sinclair striding towards him, accompanied by two men, both of whom Coombes recognised. He took a deep breath, trying to think of the right words to use, as he held out his hand and replaced the scowl of a moment before with a sombre expression that he hoped didn't look too funereal.

'Flack, good to see you.' He shook the hand of Don Flack, Snr and then turned to face Declan Maguire, shocked at how old and tired the man was looking. He held out his hand. 'Maguire - can't tell you how sorry I am about all of this.'

Declan Maguire barely met his eyes as he inclined his head and remained mute; Flack Snr glanced sharply at his friend, studying him for a moment, then turned back to meet Coombes curious gaze. He ghosted a smile. 'You all set up and ready to get this negotiation under way, Griffin?'

At the sight of Declan Maguire's distress Coombes felt the frustration he had barely been able to contain begin to boil over. He turned to Sinclair. 'Sir? You ready to give me the go ahead to do my job yet or are we still waiting for Taylor to extract his thumb from up his ass?'

Flack's gaze sharpened and he swung an accusing look at Sinclair. 'Brigham?' Even in his frustration Coombes heard a whole history in that one word, a history even more apparent as Sinclair's jaw tightened at the familiar use of his name.

'We're waiting for clarification of a few points before we start the negotiations.' Sinclair sounded strange, as if he was talking through clenched teeth and it took Coombes only a moment to realise that he sounded as if he was talking to a superior officer.

'Clarification?' Sinclair's explanation was cut short off as Maguire swung around, fury etched across his face. 'What the fuck do you need clarifying? She's got my wife in there…she's got my Maggie-' He swallowed, his face hardening, and now Coombes could see the man he'd always known; the tough, highly skilled, take no shit, detective. 'I don't care what you have to do, or who you have to do it too – just get Maggie out alive.' His meaning was clear as he glared at Sinclair.

'This isn't a typical hostage situation; Kate Robertson is a federal agent and…and…' Sinclair's voice trailed away and relief flared briefly in his eyes. Coombes turned to see Mac Taylor striding towards them.

'Taylor…what the _fuck_ are you playing at?' Declan Maguire had switched his fear and frustration away from Sinclair onto a new target.

Coombes studied the man now joining their group. He hadn't had many dealings with the head of the Crime Lab before now, typically his science geeks turned up after Coombes had finished with a scene, but they had come across each other at seminars and the like and he certainly knew him by reputation. Standing in front of him now, his face grim, Coombes decided that he looked more Marine than scientist. Taylor didn't bother with pleasantries.

'We have some information that is going to impact on how we deal with this situation.' He met Coombes eyes. 'Kate Robertson is terminally ill with less than three months to live. We have reason to believe she has no intention of coming out of this alive.'

.

* * *

.

'That fucking bastard…you were right not to trust him.' Danny threw the car around another corner as he continued his rant about Jeff Hart. Flack made no effort to stop him or to join in. In truth Danny's words were washing over him, barely registering, as fear and anger and anticipation churned inside of him at the realisation that they may be only a few moments from finding Ellie. He reached for his gun again, checking, for the third time, that it was fully loaded; aware his hand was shaking as he tried to push away the images that crowded his mind; images he didn't want to see.

They rounded another corner into a quiet side street and Danny slowed down, his eyes looking left and right as he checked house numbers.

'Is this the road? What number?' Flack suddenly realised he hadn't even asked the most basic of details.

'3402. It'll be on the right…here.' Danny slammed the car to a halt outside a small, single story house. The grass in the front yard was in need of a cut and a number of beer cans littered the porch next to the battered chair that sat to the right of the front door. None of the neighbouring properties looked any tidier; the street as a whole had a faintly depressed, run down look about it. Somewhere nearby Flack could hear several dogs barking.

Heart thumping against his chest, he reached for the door to exit the SUV but Danny's hand stopped him.

'Hang on – we have company.'

Several dark coloured SUV's appeared, blocking the small side road to passing cars and pulling up onto the drive that was to the side of the house. Men in dark suits exited the vehicles; most headed towards the house but two came towards Danny and Flack, guns pointed straight at them.

'Get out of the car. Keep your hands where we can see them.'

The taller of the two men gave the commands.

'Don…stay calm. Don't lose it now…not when we are this close.' Danny's voice cut through the red mist that had descended. ' He jerked his head towards the house.' They're feds.'

Flack nodded, his body rigid, as he slowly left the car, his hands in clear sight. Despite the gun pointed at him he wasn't concerned, more frustrated; desperate to get inside the house. From the corner of his eye he could see one of the other men kicking the door in. He felt himself relax infinitesimally as he saw the Kevlar vest the man wore imprinted with the letters, 'FBI'.

'It's them.' The shorter of the two men spoke calmly and then both men lowered their guns and extracted badges from their pockets. 'Agent Torres and Agent Murphy, FBI. We're here to help.'

'Great.' Flack's only thought was to get inside the house and find Ellie. He moved quickly, intent on stepping around Agent Torres, but Torres placed himself between Flack and house.

'Detective Flack you need to give the team time to search the house. You don't have a Kevlar vest and are more likely to hinder than help at the moment-'

The red mist descended again. 'Get the fuck-'

'DON.' Danny moved so he too was between Flack and house. 'Think. He's right…let them do their jobs.'

The need to hit something or someone was overpowering. He span around, slamming his hand against the SUV, then slamming it down again and again; preferring the physical pain to the mental agony of not being able to do anything.

'DON.'

Danny's voice again. He looked up but Danny wasn't looking at him; instead he was looking at the Agents emerging from the house. One crossed the uncut grass to where they stood on the sidewalk.

'We've searched everywhere. House is empty but there are clothes missing and his gun cabinet is empty. I'd say Hart was running.'

.

* * *

.

'It was your mother who didn't show up to the meeting, not Maggie and Declan.' Stella spoke urgently, desperate to make Kate understand. 'They looked for you for years and the proof is in my bag – look for yourself.'

The look of concentrated fury on Kate's face made Stella wonder if her gamble had failed. Her gun filled hand raised and all Stella could do was wait for it to come crashing down on the side of her head. Her body tensed in anticipation of the pain that must surely follow, but, at the top of the arc, Kate's hand stilled and the fury was wiped from her face by a sudden and unexpected look of uncertainty.

Stella took a long shaky breath, trying to calm her racing heart.

'We waited for her…for Laura…for your mother. We waited for two hours. When she didn't show Declan went looking for her. We couldn't find her so we hired a private detective and kept looking. We wanted you with us; we wanted Ellie to have a sister.' Maggie was fighting back the tears, just as she had earlier when she first told Stella about their search.

'I don't believe you.' Kate's voice shook slightly, but the uncertainty on her face was now echoed in the her voice. Stella nodded towards her bag.

'Look in the bag. There's an envelope with the letter your mother sent and the reports from the private detective in it.'

Kate didn't look at Stella, instead her gaze was fixed on the bag, a strange look on her eyes. She hesitated for a moment then she slowly crossed the room, lay down the gun and extracted the envelope with shaking fingers. She had read only a few pages when she stopped, her eyes blank as she stared into space; her arm fell limply to her side and the letter and reports slipped from her grasp.

Stella waited, almost having to force herself to keep breathing in the stillness of the room, hoping that Maggie, who as she was sat with her back to Stella couldn't see the expression on Kate's face, would remain silent too.

'No.'

Kate stood up. The uncertainty of a few moments earlier was wiped away as she paced up and down, the gun now firmly back in her hand.

'Yes.' It was Maggie who spoke again, but now her voice was strong, no hint of tears. 'Yes. We wanted you with us. I don't know what happened between the 2nd January 1978 when the letter was pushed through the door and the 3rd of January when she asked us to meet her-'

'2nd January? 1978? You're certain about the date?' The rawness of the question halted Maggie for a moment. Kate moved around behind Stella to where she could see her aunts face.

'Yes…I was pregnant with Ellie-'

'That's the day my mother died.'


	22. Chapter 22

Apologies (again) for the delay in updates – work is taking up rather more of my time than I would like.

This is the penultimate chapter – hopefully the final chapter will be up within the week. Thank you to **sallyjetson** and **lily moonlight** for their help. Thanks also to all who have added this fic to their alerts and favourites, but most of all, thanks to those of you who have reviewed!

* * *

**Chapter 21**

* * *

_Where now?_

Danny's question hung in the air, waiting for an answer, _needing_ an answer. And Flack wanted to give him an answer but he couldn't seem to hit the pause button and stop the images that spooled agonisingly through his mind.

Memories of his life with Ellie. Happy memories; memories he had forced himself not to think about for over six years, but these memories were cruelly interspersed with images conjured from his imagination of Jeff Hart hurting her…and they wouldn't stop. He couldn't make them stop. And he needed to make them stop if he was going to think of a way to find her…before…

The shrill tone of a phone sliced through the thickening silence. His phone. He grabbed it as a drowning man grabs a lifeline.

_Stella – cell_

Stunned he held the phone so Danny could see the screen.

'What the fuck?' Danny snatched the phone from Flack's paralysed fingers, punching the button to put it on speakerphone.

'Stell?'

Flack didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't what came next.

.

* * *

.

Ellie lay staring at the ceiling. In the far corner a large spider worked industriously on a web; its intricate pattern just visible in the half light that struggled through the tiny window above her.

_'Ellie…ELLIE'_

_His plaintive cry came as she was reaching for her jacket. She shook her head, half irritated, half amused, shrugged the jacket on, picked up her bag and headed back to the bedroom._

_No, Don. Your idea of 'one more kiss'', she mimed the quotation marks, 'is going to make me late-'_

_Her hand flew to her mouth in a valient attempt to stifle a laugh at the sight that met her eyes. Don, standing on the bed, naked, his arm extended as he pointed towards a large spider that was making its way across the floor towards the bed._

'_I need you to…you know…before you go…' At her raised eyebrows he offered a half embarrassed half sheepish smile. 'Please. You can't go and leave me with… that.'_

_Giving up any attempt not to laugh she dropped her bag to the floor, scooped up the spider in a tissue and then deposited it out of the window onto the fire escape. Turning back she saw Don had obviously decided the danger was now over and had climbed down from the bed._

_The opportunity to tease him was too good to miss. 'Good thing none of the criminals in New York know that if they cloaked themselves in cat hairs and carried a large spider in their pocket they'd have nothing to worry about from you.'_

_He shrugged, unbothered by her teasing. 'Yeah, yeah…I just don't like spiders.' He shuddered theatrically and shot her a look that had her suddenly very aware he was naked._

'_Good thing I was here…you could have been stranded there all day.' She edged towards where her bag lay but before she could retrieve it he scooped her into his arms._

'_No, Don, I'll be late.' But her protest sounded less than convincing even to her own ears._

'_You can't go until I've thanked you for saving me.' His hands moved slowly over her body. She felt her resolve start to slip._

_'Saved you? From that itty bitty thing?' She made a half hearted attempt to remove herself from his embrace._

_'It was a BIG spider.' His eyes burned bluer than ever. Her resolve slipped further._

_'I really should go….' But she didn't want to._

_'Tell them the traffic was bad.' His mouth was depositing kisses on the pulse point of her neck; the spot he knew was her utter undoing. It was hopeless and she knew it. She shrugged off her jacket and smiled at his grunt of satisfaction as he set to work removing the rest of her clothes.'_

'No.'

She'd spoken aloud; the pain that shot through her parched and swollen throat told her that.

No.

She mustn't think about Don.

She mustn't.

She mustn't think about how he, unlike her, would never have fallen for all of Kate's lies. But then Kate wasn't the only one who'd lied to her; her parents had lied too…

.

* * *

.

'Stella.'

Mac burst into the Flacks living room, his eyes fixed on the face of the woman now moving quickly towards him, searching her eyes to see the truth.

'I'm fine, Mac.' She must have seen the doubt in his eyes. '_Really_, I am.' But she didn't resist when he pulled her into his arms and she held onto him as tightly as he held onto her.

'Detective Bonasera.'

Mac reluctantly let Stella go as Sinclair stepped into the room. He looked around, expecting to see Kate Robertson handcuffed, surprised when he saw she was sitting, unshackled, in one of the Flack's wingback chairs, even more surprised when he saw Maggie sitting in the chair next to her. He caught Stella's eyes.

'She's ill, Mac; we need to get her to a hospital.' Stella indicated towards the gun lying next to her on the table. 'As soon as she realised that Maggie and Declan had tried to find her she handed me the gun, told me where to find Ellie and phoned Jeff Hart to try to stop him.'

'As soon as she realised…I don't understand?'

'She believed that Declan and Maggie had rejected her when her mother died.' Stella spoke softly, her eyes straying towards where Kate sat, her empty eyes staring at nothing.

Mac took a moment to process this. 'So, all of this because she thought she had been abandoned by her father.' Outside, Declan Maguire's voice could be heard demanding entrance to the house. Sinclair nodded his head to show Mac that he would deal with it and slipped quickly from the room. Mac looked back at Stella. 'But something must have happened six years ago to kick this all off?'

'Kate was one of the agents dealing with the Hemmingway case. She met Ellie and knowing who she was she couldn't resist getting to know her. When she asked her whether she had any brothers or sisters, Ellie told her that she didn't.' Stella shrugged helplessly. 'That seems to have been the tipping point – the fact that Ellie knew nothing about her. She told me it felt as if she had been erased from their life and so she decided to erase Ellie from theirs.'

'My god.' Mac ran his fingers through his hair as he processed this. His thoughts switched again. 'What happened when she spoke to Hart?'

Stella shook her head. 'He wouldn't answer, but she knows where Ellie is being held and I called Flack and Danny and gave them the address,' she hesitated a moment and her face crumpled slightly, 'but Danny told me that Hart probably has at least a half hour start on them.'

'But surely, if the plan was-,' he broke off at the fresh agony now twisting Stella's face. 'Stella, what aren't you telling me?'

'Hart has no intention of letting Ellie go. He's a bad man, Mac, a very bad man. If Danny and Flack don't get there in time…'

.

* * *

.

'How far?' Danny was hunched forward slightly, his face screwed in concentration as he weaved the SUV in and out of the traffic.

'Next exit then right at the lights. Two miles then take a right at the white farm house. Another mile and take a left and then it's a mile to…' Flack couldn't finish the sentence. Was it a mile to Ellie? Or was it a mile to where she had been and was no longer? Or worse, was it a mile to her body?

Danny hunched further forward, his foot flat to the floor as he sliced in front of a truck and took the off ramp at speed. 'No sign of Hart…why the fuck haven't they seen him?'

It was a rhetorical question. Every police patrol in the area was on the lookout for Hart, but so far no-one had spotted him.

'_Someone _should have seen him.'

Flack knew that talking was Danny's way of coping with the fear that was suffocating them both; that they might be too late. He tried to form a reply but no words would come…instead the images returned, more graphic than before and he now he could hear her, calling for him, and he wasn't there…

.

* * *

.

Ellie heard the car approaching and knew this was the end; that there was no more hope of rescue…no more hope that Don would rescue her…

She forced herself to sit upright, trying to ignore the pain that racked her body. Next to her on the bed lay a broken bottle; the same broken bottle that she had cut her hand on when Jeff Hart had thrown her to the floor the previous night.

The broken bottle that now offered her the only way out of the horror that was approaching.

Her good hand began to move and her fingers obsessively caressed the smooth edges of the bottle before moving to the sharp, jagged, broken edge; confirming the strength of the glass; estimating, yet again, its ability to slice through flesh.

The car came to a halt, the engine died and then a door slammed. His footsteps crunched towards the door.

It was nearly over.

She raised her hand to her neck, checking again for the point where the pulse beat. Her skin felt fevered and clammy to her touch and she felt a moments panic when she couldn't find the pulse. Her fingers scrambled frantically until she found it, fainter than before, as if it was retreating away from the surface.

His footsteps stopped outside the door to her prison. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath as she tried to steady her nerves. Her heart started pounding faster and faster against her bruised and battered body and she had a sudden thought that the pulse in her neck would be easy enough to find now.

The lock rattled as the key twisted. One hard, deep slash; it was all there would be time for.

The door began to open. She braced herself against the wall and carefully placed the jagged edge of the bottle against her neck.


	23. Chapter 23

Well, this is the last chapter (except the epilogue which will follow in the next few days). This started as a birthday present for **sallyjetson** and has taken so long it is nearly her birthday again! Huge love and thanks to her for being an amazing friend.

Thanks also go to **lily moonlight** and **notesofwimsey** for all their help and support both with this chapter and all the others!

* * *

**Chapter 22**

* * *

.

_The sun was so bright it hurt his eyes. Danny raised his hand in an attempt to shield them as he looked around, trying to make sense of where he was; trying to remember how he'd got here._

'_Danny.'_

_Flack. He turned his head frantically from side to side, trying to work out where his voice had come from, relief flooding him as he finally saw his familiar shape._

'_Don-' He broke off as he recognised the figure next to him. 'Ellie?' Confusion swept over him. 'Where are we?'_

'_Danny?' Another voice. It sounded like Lindsay but why would Lindsay be here? He looked around but he couldn't see her. He turned back to face Flack and Ellie._

'_I don't understand.' _

_Flack nodded. 'I know…I'm sorry, I really am… but you'll be ok…you have to be ok…you hear me?'_

'_I hear you.' Danny was taken aback by the fierceness of Flack's expression. _

_Flack nodded, his face relaxing slightly. 'Ok, well that's good.' He looked at Ellie, an appeal in his eyes but she shook her head. He sighed and nodded then turned back to Danny. 'I'm sorry, but we have to go now.'_

'_Go? Where are you going?'_

_He felt as if he was a child again, tagging after Louie, not wanting to feel left out._

_Flack shrugged, and suddenly his face was wreathed in smiles. 'Who knows?' His arm tightened around Ellie._

'_Can I come too?' _

_Ellie stepped towards him, her hand resting briefly on his arm as she placed a gentle kiss against his cheek. 'I'm sorry, Danny.' She stepped back into Flack's embrace. _

'_But why not?' Panic was rising within him. The sun was getting brighter and he could hardly see them now._

'_Danny.' Lindsay's voice again. He looked around but he still couldn't see her anywhere. He looked back._

'_Don…DON?'_

_And then…nothing._

_._

* * *

.

Danny wanted to open his eyes but they felt so heavy and he felt so tired…

…there was a scent…a scent that meant something to him, but he was so tired…so tired…

_Danny rolled the car to a halt a short distance away from the brick built house. Once, a long time ago, someone had whitewashed the exterior walls but the little paint that still clung to the brick had long since turned a sludgy green. The general air of disrepair was reinforced by a sagging roof and several broken windows._

'_That matches the description of the car Hart's neighbour saw driving away.'_

_Flack indicated towards the dark SUV parked in front of the house._

_They climbed out of the car, leaving the doors open; not wanting the noise of them closing to alert Hart to their presence. Danny shivered; unnerved by the silence that surrounded them. _

_Flack waved his gun towards the side of the building and Danny nodded to let him know he understood. He followed close behind, his eyes sweeping left and right, watching for anything that seemed out of place._

_The silence seemed to grow, until that was all there was. Even the air was still…as if it was waiting…watching…_

He tried to open his eyes but he couldn't. Frustrated he tried again, and this time he managed to crack them open slightly, but all he could see was green…

Confused, he struggled harder but tiredness swept over him again, dragging him back into a black void…

_They paused next to the door, their backs pressed against a brick wall, listening for signs of life and now they heard something…a noise…a door opening? _

_Flack had already started to move when they heard the shout…followed by a scream…_

Beeping…something was beeping…a constant, unwavering rhythm. It was irritating…he wished it would stop…he wanted it to stop...

_They burst through the door into an empty room. Several doors led off it and there was a moment's confusion about which way to go until they heard another scream…_

He could hear voices somewhere above him but he couldn't hear what they were saying. He tried to move but his body felt heavy…he tried to open his eyes but he couldn't…

_The passageway was narrow and dark. Flack was ahead of him, running, blocking most of his view…but he could see a doorway on the right…_

'_You fucking bitch-'_

'_HART.'_

_Flack's fury echoed, ricocheting off the walls around their heads…they reached the doorway and Danny had a brief image of Hart, his left hand clutching a wound in his neck, his right hand holding a gun, a body lying at his feet…then an explosion…Flack falling…_

'Don…_DON_.'

He struggled now, desperate to open his eyes.

'Danny…it's OK, _Danny_…help me.' Lindsay…it sounded like Lindsay…and there was another sound…an alarm…he could hear an alarm. 'Danny…you can't speak…you have a tube in your throat.' Lindsay? He forced his eyes open, desperate to see her face but she wasn't there…all he could see was green…and white…he didn't understand…he tried to speak again but now all he could see was black...and then he was drowning in the darkness.

…_he fired twice…Hart's body jerked under the impact of the bullets…he heard a scream and then a white hot pain consumed him…_

.

* * *

.

When he opened his eyes bright winter sunlight was streaming through the window. He blinked and turned his head away…

Hospital. He was in a hospital. The scent of the disinfectant and the beeping…

…screens full of red, green and yellow numbers and lines…all telling a story…a story about him…

His shoulder felt heavy. He tried to move his left arm but a dull pain flooded his chest and the heaviness increased…

…he had been shot…and now he remembered…

Flack was dead. Ellie was dead.

'Danny.'

Through his tears he saw her. Her face was pale and tired but a gentle smile curved her lips.

'Lindsay?' His throat hurt.

She sat next to him on the bed, tears streaming down her face. 'Oh god, Danny, I thought I'd lost you.'

'Flack…?' He knew the answer already but he needed her to tell him.

'You're a damn slacker, Messer. Mac said to tell you that this malingering is coming off your vacation time.'

Flack.

Standing in the doorway…eyes suspiciously bright but looking very alive.

'I thought…' It was hard to talk and his voice sounded strange. He looked back at Lindsay. 'You're really here?' She nodded, worry beginning to cloud her eyes. 'And Flack's alive?' Alarm showed now and her eyes turned to look at Flack, appealing for help. Flack came and sat in the chair next to the bed. His eyes, which stared intently at Danny, appeared moist, but that couldn't be…Flack never cried…

'I am most definitely alive.' He turned his head to show a dressing just above his left ear. 'Hart's bullet creased my head…concussion…nothing serious.'

'Ellie?' The heaviness in Danny's chest seemed to intensify as he waited for the answer.

'Ellie is alive...badly beaten and she had a head injury they were worried about for a while.' Flack paused, and his eyes darkened for a moment, then he forced a smile. 'Turns out you gave us the most to worry about.'

Danny closed his eyes and experienced a sensation, or was it a memory, of being dragged under by the darkness. He opened his eyes again.

'What day is it?'

Flack grinned, looking more himself. 'It's Thursday afternoon…you've been out for nearly four days.' He stood up. 'I'm going to go and get Ellie - she'll want to see you.'

'Wait.' He needed to understand. 'What happened? I remember some of it, but…the screams…and the blood…I thought she was dead…' He needed to understand.

'Danny, why not wait-'

'No, Linds, it's alright.' Flack cut Lindsay off gently. She sighed and nodded, and took a firmer grip on Danny's hand.

'When Hart arrived Ellie was holding a broken bottle to her neck. She wanted him to believe that she was going to kill herself…she knew it was her only chance to catch him off guard.' Flack's face and voice were expressionless. 'She used the bottle to make a cut in her neck so there was blood…Hart thought she was really trying to kill herself, rushed over and then she used the bottle on him but she missed the main artery. That was the first scream we heard. She tried to get away but she hadn't eaten in days and had lost a lot of blood…he stopped her…that was the second scream…' Flack shrugged. 'Then I went charging in like a bull at a gate, got shot and nearly got you killed-'

'Don't pull that crap on me.' Danny wished he could make his voice stronger. 'Nothing else we could have done. If we'd done it by the book he'd have killed Ellie.'

'I told you that's what he'd say.' Lindsay gave Flack a stern look.

Flack shook his head, a mulish expression on his face. 'Anyway, you shot and killed Hart but his gun fired by reflex and the bullet hit you in the shoulder. Fortunately we weren't the only ones Stella gave the address to…' he forced a smile as he began to back towards the door. 'Look, I'll be back later…give you two some time to talk.' As he reached the doorway Flack sent a look loaded with meaning at Lindsay, and Danny had the strangest feeling some sort of a message was passing between them, but before he could say anything Flack turned abruptly and was gone.

As soon as his footsteps had faded away Danny asked, 'Is Ellie really OK?' He couldn't shake the feeling there was a lot Flack wasn't saying.

'As well as she can be…,' Lindsay hesitated, 'but she won't see her parents. She blames them for what's happened…,' she shrugged. 'Flack's finding it hard…he's trying to help her but I think he needs someone to help him, and you know Flack; he's not letting anyone close enough to do that...and...well, you saw...he blames himself for you getting shot.'

Silence fell. Her hand felt good in his…

'Your parents are here. They went back to the hotel for a shower and a change of clothes an hour before you woke up. They should be back soon.' He stared at her, surprised. She shook her head impatiently. 'You nearly died Danny…technically you did die.' For the first time he noticed the dark circles under her eyes. He squeezed her hand.

'But I didn't…I'm here…,' a moments hesitation before he rushed on, 'I love you, Lindsay. I know I was a bastard for what I did-'

Her fingers, pressed gently against his mouth, stopped him. 'It's in the past…I've had a lot of time to think and…well…,' His parents voices could be heard in the hallway. Lindsay stood up and slipped her hand from his. 'Look, there's lots to talk about, but we'll do it later…we have lots of time.'

And with that promise she stepped back, smiling, as his parents rushed to his side.

* * *

**AN2**: The epilogue will be up in a few days and will be from Flack's POV. Thank you to everyone who has been reading, placing this on alerts and favourites and especially those of you who have reviewed :)


	24. Chapter 24

This is the final part of this story. I want to thank **lily moonlight** for her thoughts on this epilogue and particularly **Sally Jetson**, both for her thoughts and for kindly lending me Ty Naylor. If you have read her wonderful fic, **Key West Blues**, you will know him as Danny's therapist (and if you haven't read it and love a really beautifully written DL fic then I can thoroughly recommend it!). I loved him so much in that story and I knew he would be the perfect therapist to help Flack; luckily **SJ** agreed!

I tried a few different formats for this epilogue but in the end it worked best (I think) in the first person, from Flack's POV. I hope you enjoy the final installment.

* * *

**Epilogue**

* * *

**2nd May 2008 – Ty Naylor's Office**

The first time I walked into Ty's office I thought he must be a cheap hack. After all, most therapists earn more in a day than I do in a week, so furnishing an office is hardly a stretch. But Ty's office, with its bare walls, battered desk, hard chairs and no couch was as far away from what I was expecting as it was possible to get.

But that was then. Now I see the point behind it; remove the frills and all that's left is the truth. And that's what this has all been about – admitting what's true and then working out how to deal with it.

And that's a big step forward for me because if you'd asked me six weeks ago whether I was always truthful I would have told you yes, always. Not, as it turns out, the biggest lie I was telling myself, but possibly the most dangerous. After all, if you can't even admit when you are lying to yourself you really are in trouble.

'Ty's going to be a while yet.' Marianne smiles at me, peering over the glasses she uses when she is working on the computer and which hang on a gold chain around her neck when she's not. 'I'll make us a pot of coffee.'

I've fallen in love with Marianne. She has a great smile, is always cheerful and reminds me of my sixth grade teacher, Mrs Howard. She steps out from behind her desk and I notice her shoes - bright red, open toed sandals that even I can see clash violently with the orange, blue and green pattern of her summer dress, and the purple nail varnish on her fingers and toes.

'Whoa, Marianne – those are some fancy shoes.' She throws me a saucy smile and adds a wiggle to her hips as she makes her way towards the kitchenette in the corner.

'I wore them for you, sugar.'

Marianne is pushing sixty, has five children, eight, nearly nine, grandchildren and has been married to her childhood sweetheart, Joseph, for close to forty years. I have no idea how long she has worked as Ty's receptionist/ assistant but she has been as much a part of my therapy as he has, so much so that I've taken to arriving early for sessions just so we'll have some time to chat.

'How is Danny doing?'

I wander over to the kitchenette and prop myself against the wall.

'He's good…should be back to full duty again in the next week or so.'

'And how are things going with his young lady?'

Marianne is an incurable romantic. The story of Lindsay rushing to Danny's bedside as he clung to life by a thread – her words - and their subsequent reconciliation holds an endless fascination to her…nearly as much as the story of Danny and I flying to Memphis to rescue Ellie.

'Things are going great.' I hesitate, not sure if I should say anything, but then Marianne can keep a secret and anyway, who is she going to tell? 'He's planning on proposing as soon as he finds the perfect ring.'

Which can't come soon enough as far as I'm concerned; my feet are still aching after giving up my day off yesterday to traipse through miles of lower Manhattan, Queens and Staten Island looking at rings. He's narrowed it down to two but can't decide between them.

'That's wonderful news.' Marianne is all smiles but her eyes are sharp as she looks at me. 'How do you feel about that?'

Like I said, she's been as much a part of my therapy as Ty.

I shrug my shoulders and use the excuse of spooning sugar into Marianne's coffee to avoid meeting her eyes. 'I'm happy for them.'

And I am. But as much as I'm happy for Danny and Lindsay it just makes me more aware that Ellie and I should be heading towards our sixth wedding anniversary…we might even have started a family by now...

'Do you know when you'll be able to see Ellie?'

I hand Marianne her mug of coffee, fighting to keep the amusement that her words have provoked from my face. Even after all these weeks she still catches me off guard. 'How do you do that?'

'Married nearly forty years and seen three sons through more broken hearts than I can count. I know how much you miss her.'

'I am happy for them, Marianne.'

She lays a hand on my arm, and the warmth in her eyes brings a lump to my throat. 'I know you are, sugar, but I know how much you love that girl of yours and its got to be hard to see your friends happy and making plans when you can't.'

'He nearly died, and that was my fault. Seeing them together and happy does make me think about Ellie, but…' I shrug and head back to my chair, fighting the nausea that still wells up inside me every time I think about how close I came to killing Danny.

Marianne doesn't bother contradicting me – another thing I like about her. I rushed head long into a room with an armed and dangerous man in it. I broke every rule in the book and the person who nearly paid with his life was Danny. But one of the good things about all this therapy is that I am finally able to accept Danny's reassurances that, even knowing the outcome, he'd do it all over again, and that if it had been Lindsay in that room it would have been him leading the way.

I wouldn't say I've forgiven myself, but I am finally able to accept that reason, common sense and years of training and experience are often casualties in the sort of extreme situation we found ourselves in. Not a bad lesson to learn – it's certainly made me more understanding and a lot less judgmental about some of Danny's past actions.

'Did you go to lunch with your family on Sunday?'

The abrupt change of subject makes me smile. 'Yes, ma'am, I did.'

'And how did it go?'

'Pretty good, all things considered.'

'All things considered?'

Marianne interrogates with a natural ease, particularly when it's a subject that is close to her heart – and family and spending time with family is a big deal to her. Every month her whole family; kids, sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins all get together and from what I can tell no-one has ever been foolish enough not to turn up.

When Ellie and I got back to New York I was so focused on 'fixing' her that I pushed everyone else away, particularly anyone who tried to tell me that Ellie needed more help than I could give her. My parents were vocal on that subject and some things were said that I'm not proud of. Encouraging me as I've worked to repair that breech has been something of a 'project' for Marianne.

'Well, they still want me to persuade Ellie to see Declan and Maggie but they didn't push it. Actually I got the feeling that they understand why she won't but feel they have to try and help sort it out.'

It took over a week for me, Danny, once he was conscious again, and the psychiatrist at the hospital in Memphis to persuade Ellie to see Maggie and Declan. Less than an hour after they arrived, they informed Ellie that they intended to support Kate through the final months of her life. Ellie had them thrown out of her hospital room and the next day signed the papers giving me her medical power of attorney. Looking back it's obvious that this was the start of her breakdown but at the time I was still so convinced that I could 'fix' things I was missing all the signs.

Marianne sighs, 'I can understand them wanting to see their daughter.'

So can I; my problem is I can also understand why Ellie won't see them so I'm stuck in the middle of this one, or I would be if it involved anyone other than Ellie. As it does the decision is made for me. If there are 'sides' I'm on hers – no questions asked.

The phone rings, and Marianne answers it while I take the coffee cups back to the kitchenette and wash them out in the sink. I place the coffee cups on the drainer to dry and am half way back to my chair when the door opens and Ty appears looking as relaxed and in control as always.

'Don, good to see you.' He hands some files to Marianne who is still on the phone, then indicates with his head for me to follow him. I wave goodbye to Marianne who sends me a beaming smile, before following Ty into his office and closing the door.

There is something about this room that I really like now. If spending time with Marianne is like sitting in the sun, spending time with Ty is almost the complete opposite; not cold, but cool and refreshing. I sit down and he shoves a packet of nicotine gum towards me before propping his feet on the desk and leaning back.

'Help yourself if you need some.'

He quit years back. I quit a few weeks ago after I started smoking again after everything went so wrong with Ellie. It's not proving as difficult to quit this time as it did the first time but there are occasions when I crave nicotine, and hitting emotional highs and lows are numbers one and two on the list. Straight after sex is number three so I suppose there is one advantage to being celibate.

'How have you been?' It's been Ty's standard opening to every session I've had with him.

I've had 'therapy' before. After the bombing I had to be signed off to return to work and the few times I've discharged my gun, and in particular the two occasions I've killed someone, I had to have a psych evaluation. Dad calls it the curse of modern day policing and thinks there is too much 'touchy feely crap' nowadays. I can't say it's ever really bothered me – every time I've had to go and see the department shrink its been a couple of boring conversations where I pretend to 'open up' and 'reveal my emotions' and they pretend to give a shit before they sign me fit for duty. But Ty is not a department shrink.

I start to tell him about the last few days; about a couple of cases I've been working on; about traipsing around Manhattan with Danny looking for 'the perfect ring' for Lindsay; about seeing my parents at the weekend. It's been my standard reply to his opening question – talk about the every day stuff; give myself some time before we start to talk about what really matters.

Before we talk about Ellie.

Stella gave me Ty's name. She has been seeing him on and off since Frankie tried to kill her – something I didn't know until a few weeks ago. She in turn got Ty's name from Mac who knows him from his days in the Marine Corps. I was skeptical, I'll admit, but as Stella so charmingly put it, if I didn't get my shit together I stood no chance of ever sorting things out with Ellie.

As my rambling about Sunday lunch with my parents tails off Ty swings his feet down and sits forward, propping his elbows on the desk and giving me a look that tells me its time to cut to the chase. I dig around in my jacket pocket and pull out a pile of letters; all from Ellie; all of which have arrived since our last session. He picks the top one up and then meets my gaze as he raises an eyebrow in a silent question.

I nod and he slides the first letter out, the 30th letter she has sent me, and starts to read. I know them all off by heart, particularly the first one she sent, a week after I had her committed.

_Don, _

_This is to say thank you._

_I know how hard it was for you to let me go because I know how hard it was for me to leave you again, but you did the right thing. I've only been here a week and already I feel better; more like myself; more like your Ellie again._

_And that's what I wanted to tell you – I am still your Ellie and I always will be. I love you – I never stopped. _

_Do you remember this poem?_

_I've always been in love with you I swear_

'_Impossible,' they say, yet it is true:_

_I speak with certainty, for I was there._

_Well, this verse from it seems to fit at the moment – what with my being in a 'facility' at present!_

_Let experts, calendars and maps declare_

_I'm nuts or have at least one wobbly screw;_

_I've always been in love with you I swear._

_Go on – I dare you to laugh!_

_I love you,_

_Ellie_

_X_

I did laugh – out loud – for the first time in weeks. Then I picked up a pen, found some paper and wrote a reply. I don't remember the last letter I wrote before this, but it was probably in my teens, under sufferance, with my mother standing over me as I begrudgingly thanked an aunt or a grandparent for a birthday present. But the facility in Westchester doesn't allow the internet and so email was out, and they discourage patients from using the phone except in emergencies. So it was communicate by letter or nothing.

I told her I loved her too and that I wanted things to work between us. I told her she could have as much time as she needed – I just wanted her to want to come home.

We've written to each other every day since then, finally managing to say all the things we hadn't been able to say to each other during the weeks I spent trying, and failing, to help her.

That was the early letters anyway. Over the last couple of weeks we've started to fill in the gaps of the last six years and in the last few days we have started to, tentatively, talk about the future. Our future. But what I still don't know is whether she wants to come home with me or whether she needs more time. If it's time she needs I know I'll have to give it to her…

I become aware that Ty has finished reading the 35th, and final, letter. The one I received this morning.

'What do you think?' I've been showing him Ellie's letters as I know Ellie has been showing mine to the doctors that have been helping her.

Ty sits back in his chair and a rare smile lightens his features. 'I think you've come a long way in a few weeks, Don, and I think you know exactly what to do.'

.

* * *

.

**3rd May 2008 – Battery Park, New York**

On the 4th of May 1998, almost to the hour, I was standing in this park, not sure whether to laugh or swear loudly as Ellie calmly informed me that a trip to Liberty Island was the first stop on our itinerary as tourists for the day; her idea of how to celebrate her 20th birthday.

Then, the sky was cloudy and there was a stiff wind blowing in off the East River that threatened to turn the clouds into rain. We didn't care. It was one of those perfect days that happen sometimes for no reason you can understand and the unseasonably cold weather couldn't spoil that. Today, it's the complete opposite. The sky is blue and it's shaping up to be another hot and humid day in New York. The tourists queuing at Clinton Castle to buy tickets to Liberty Island are already shedding their outer layers and starting to fan themselves.

I check my watch again. 7:56am. Four minutes to go.

I've been here since 7am.

I gave up trying to sleep at 4am. Instead, I cleaned the apartment again, just in case I do hear the three words that I have obsessed over since the day nearly seven weeks ago now when I drove her to St Paul's Clinic in Westchester and then left her there.

I check my watch again. 7:59am.

The acid in my stomach is giving me heartburn.

My eyes sweep the park for what must be close to the 200th time, and this time, finally, I see her. She's walking towards me, a large bag over one shoulder and a smile on her face.

She looks amazing. She looks like Ellie.

She looks like my Ellie.

My mouth is dry but my palms are clammy and suddenly I can't think of what to say. All I can think is that I just need to hear three words from her and if I do, if I hear those three words, then everything will be ok.

She stops in front of me and drops the bag to the ground. She's still smiling and now I can see her eyes are dancing like they used to dance when she was happy. I find myself smiling too and I want to reach out, catch hold of her and never let go, but I know I have to let her set the pace, so I wait, and hope.

She steps closer, so there is barely an inch between us, then raises her hand and places it gently against my cheek. I can't stop myself placing my hand over hers. Her hand against my face feels so familiar yet so strange.

'Did you want to meet me here so we can spend your birthday being tourists for a day again?' My words, spoken without conscious thought, make her laugh. It has been over six years since I last heard her laugh.

She shakes her head. 'No, you're safe. That was a wonderful day…a wonderful memory, but I think it's time we started making new memories, don't you?'

I can't think of anything I want more. I slip my other hand around her waist and pull her closer. She comes without hesitation, tilting her head and parting her lips. I kiss her gently, fighting against the urge to crush her mouth with my own, but she is more insistent. Her arms wind themselves around my neck and I quickly lose myself in the strange yet familiar intensity of kissing her again.

Time passes. How much time I'm not sure but when finally we break apart the line of people waiting to board the tour boat has doubled in length.

'So, what now?' I can hardly get the words out.

The smile of earlier is gone and for a moment she looks away, towards the queue of tourists, many of whom are gawking openly at us. Then she looks back, and she is smiling again.

'Take me home, Don. Please.'

Take me home.

The three words I needed to hear.

* * *

**AN2:** The poem is** 'A Love Song' by Vernon Scannell**


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